


Saints Of Another Kind

by ceruleanshark



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Appalachian gothic AU, Falling In Love, Folklore, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Rescue Missions, Slow Burn, awkward forest gays falling in love and doing occult bullshit, cryptid!Melkor, god will these two just kiss already, mountain shenanigans, seduction via cartography
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 02:11:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 36,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14250837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceruleanshark/pseuds/ceruleanshark
Summary: Mairon is an outcast in his small Appalachian town. The mountains, while deadly, are his refuge.Melkor is a strange being living alone in the wilderness, his very soul entwined with the peaks where he makes his home.An encounter along a trail of wisps changes both their fates.





	1. Paths

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from an art post by @dappermouth on Tumblr. 
> 
> Stuff for this fic is tagged as "goth husbands AU" on my Tumblr.

Wind rattled the windowpanes, whistling over the tiny gaps in the old wooden frame. Mairon raised his head, turning away from the glow of his laptop to gaze out along the edge of the valley. A loose shingle rattled against the roof of the neighboring house, tossed by the stiff gusts.

He reluctantly turned back to the document on the screen, the blinking cursor bar staring out at him in silent judgement. With a heavy groan, he pressed the power button and closed the laptop. The half-completed essay could wait. The repeated gusts of wind made him far too restless.

He climbed off his bed and retrieved his jacket and backpack from their hooks beside the door. Briefly pausing to stow a leather-bound notebook and slip his iron knife into his beltloop, he exited his cramped bedroom. 

Mairon's footfalls on the stairs broke the relative silence in the small house as he approached the storm door, quickly buttoning his flannel jacket with fumbling fingers. When he paused in the foyer to lace on his hiking boots, the sound of a door creaking open from the second floor made him bite back a groan.

“Where are you going?” Curumo called, poking his head out of his room. A pencil was tucked behind one ear, barely visible under his unbrushed hair. Mairon spared him only a swift glance. “Out.”

“Hiking again?” His brother stepped into the narrow hallway and leaned on the bannister, silhouetted by the warm glow of the lights on the second floor. 

“Yes. I have art to do.” Mairon adjusted the clips on his backpack and stood, moving to unlock the door. Curumo sighed. “I don't get what it is with you and those mountains. You know what people say. One day you're going to wander too far, Mairon.”

“You don't have to get it.” Mairon said shortly. He lingered in the doorway for a moment. “I'll be back in time for dinner. Make sure mom and dad know where I am if they get home before me.” He stepped out without waiting for a response.

Outside, a stiff breeze ruffled his ponytail and made the long grasses dip and wave. Mist billowed down from the mountains in waves, lights from the row of houses carving through the silver-gray veil hanging in the valley. The mountains sliced through the formless fog, jagged peaks dark and hazy against the sky.

Mairon rounded the house, passing the small garden tended by his mother, and climbed the rolling slopes of the field that lead to the forests extending across the peaks of the Appalachians. 

The sketchbook in his bag seemed to grow heavy as he paused by the lower reaches of the trees. He tilted his head and gazed carefully into the bushes, alert for any eyes flashing in the gloom or strange shapes slinking through the underbrush, but nothing stirred in the dim light under the canopy.

Mairon delicately stepped over a spillage of vibrant green ferns and passed under the trees, easily finding a path over logs and past thornbushes that seemed almost to reach for him, tugging at his clothes as he passed by.

As he wandered further up the slope, his sharp amber eyes found trails carved by small creatures moving through the undergrowth. Tufts of fur, tawny brown against the pale green bushes they were snared on, would have been invisible to all but the most skilled trackers.

Mairon crouched down to sweep his gaze thoroughly through the brush. He picked up a trail rapidly, pieceing together the fur and broken brances and the occasional print in the leaf litter that looked like a cross between a hoof and a paw. “Squonks.” He muttered aloud.

Moving with careful steps so as not to disturb the forest, Mairon mused over the creatures he was tracking.

The small furred creatures were regarded as hideously ugly by most. To Mairon, they were merely intriguing, not to mention some of the friendlier creatures lurking in the mountains.

The sharp snap of a breaking branch caused his head to shoot up, looking around warily. Movement flickered in the bushes, beneath a sprawling rhododendron.

Mairon probed around his consciousness for the prickle of forewarning that too often came to him when he roamed the mountains, but nothing leapt out at him. Deciding to proceed, he moved silently across the leaf litter, walking toes-first and keeping low. 

He hunched beside a tall oak, among the knotted roots, and observed the rhododendron. He didn't have long to wait before a wrinkled snout parted the waxy green leaves. 

A small creature padded out of the trees with a soft snuffling noise, rooting around in the leaves with delicate motions. It was really rather cute.

As quietly as possible, Mairon pulled a granola bar from his pocket and broke off a small piece. He tossed it into the leaves near the base of a slender sapling. 

The squonk’s head bobbed up rapidly, furry ears perked towards the sound. With quick, cautious movements, it approached the food.

Mairon gave a small smile as it sniffed the crumbs of granola before lapping them up with a pink tongue. He tossed out another piece, closer to his tree this time.

The squonk trotted closer, but froze when it saw Mairon. Mairon remained stock still, knees aching slightly from holding his position.

With hesitant footsteps, the creature wandered up to the crumbs, snatched them with its small dog-like mouth, and scampered off into the rhododendrons.

Mairon stood stiffly once the rustling had faded into the distance. Brushing the leaf litter off his jeans, he stepped out from behind his tree. A blue light flaring to life in the fog caught his eye.

A wisp.

Mairon knew he should turn the other direction and flee the forests. Wisps meant danger. Wisps meant the deception of the mountains. But they were also signs of fate.

Something--his own curiosity, perhaps--drove him towards the light. The glow flickered just out of reach, towards another orb shimmering between two trees. 

Mairon kept walking, eyes wide, as more wisps sparked to life, a jagged line leading him deeper into the forest. He clambered over the mossy boulders in his path, boots crunching in the leaves as he dropped down on the other side. 

Each wisp blinked out just as he was close enough to touch it, coming into existence once more further down the line. As Mairon followed them, a presence began to weigh just above the back of his neck. While heady and powerful, it was not malignant.

“What are you?” Mairon called softly, turning to scan the forest. He could feel someone, something, just out of reach, but the woods around him were empty. 

A wisp shone in a gap between two boulders, the trail curving out of his sight. Mairon steeled himself and approached the gap, when the silence was broken suddenly by a woman's voice.

“Mairon!” He wheeled about and spotted Yavanna, marching stridently towards him. A wicker basket was slung over one arm, matching the straw hat shading her pale face.

Yavanna drew herself to a halt beside him and seized his upper arm, making him wince. “What are you doing out here?” He asked, blinking in surprise.

“Gathering herbs. But never mind that, you shouldn't be following the lights. Do you remember nothing your father and I tell you?” She scowled deeply, escorting him down the mountain and away from the blue glow of the wisps.

Mairon tore his eyes away from the orbs flickering through the trees. “I didn't--” She shook her head. “No excuses. You could get yourself killed!” 

“But I--” Again Yavanna cut him off. “No. Don't follow the wisps.” She lowered her voice, looking around nervously as though someone might hear her. “Those who follow the wisps are taken by the mountains. I don't want to lose you.” 

Mairon sighed and allowed her to lead him home. The walk back seemed to take far longer than the trip into the forest, and Mairon could have sworn they passed the same trees and boulders several times. Yavanna looked increasingly worried, fiddling with the stone talisman about her neck with one hand, until finally the trees thinned. They passed swiftly through the familiar spread of rhododendrons, oaks, and ferns by the edge of the forest, Yavanna's footsteps far too loud and clumsy compared to Mairon's delicate tread.

Her grasp on his arm hardly eased until their house came into sight across the field.

Yavanna led him past the garden and up to the front door, their feet crunching on the gravel driveway as they passed the truck parked in front of the house.

“Your father is home. He's going to be hearing about this, Mairon. After all we've taught you.” She shook her head with a frown and released his arm to tug open the door.

“Aulë?” Yavanna set down her basket in the foyer as Mairon stood awkwardly to the side, gaze lingering too long upon the swirling silver of the clouds outside. 

Yavanna brushed impatiently past Mairon, hanging her hat on a hook as she went. Aulë peered out of the living room, setting his magazine aside on the couch.

"Your son was following the lights." Yavanna said brusquely. Her arms were folded and her mouth creased downwards with displeasure and worry. Aulë looked over to Mairon with a sigh. Mairon leaned awkwardly against the doorframe.

"What have I told you?" He stood and approached Mairon, looming over his far shorter son. "What have we all told you, time and time again? You could have been killed, or lost."

Aulë rested his large hands on Mairon's slim shoulders. "Those who pursue the wisps don't return. The forests have taken many wiser and older than you. Don't let them take you too." 

Mairon sighed. "I understand. It won't happen again." 

"Your mother and I are going over to Nienna's tonight for dinner. I expect you to stay inside the house. No more traipsing around outdoors." Aulë explained firmly.

It was useless to argue, but the temptation lingered. The presence along the wisps' trail hadn't been malignant. It had been powerful and strange, yes, but there was no edge of danger tainting the aura. It had seemed familiar, Mairon now realized as he recalled the sensation at the base of his skull.

"Alright." Mairon turned back to the foyer and made for the staircase, not bothering to kick off his boots. He swept up the stairs and into his room, pushing the door closed behind him and collapsing onto his bed. The breeze rustled the flimsy curtains. 

Wisps never lasted long. Every moment Mairon wasted sitting uselessly in his room was a moment the wisps could take to slip away. The presence at the end of the trail could lie forever beyond his fleeting grasp. He clenched his fists subconsciously, determination building fast in his heart.

He pulled his phone from his back pocket and opened it to speed dial Thuringwethil. Her shift at the clinic would be over; it was late. Purpled shadows stretched long over the ground outside the wooden walls of the house.

"Mairon?" She sounded drained as she answered the phone. 

"Hey, Thuri. Just wanted to let you know I'm going out tonight. There's something I have to do." He waited with for the response, playing with the buttons of his flannel.

"That cryptic, hm? Must be important." Her tone was wry. Mairon couldn't help but smile. "It is, believe me."

"I don't even want to know what you're up to now, Mai, but I've got your back if you get in trouble or need a pickup." 

"Thanks. If I don't check in by midnight, assume the wolves got me." He took a joking tone, but could almost sense her stiffen on the other end of the line.

"Not funny, Mairon. God knows those hills have almost killed you enough times." That certain dead serious edge had crept into her normally-calm voice.

"Sorry." A pause. "Promise I'll check in before then." 

The tension seemed to ease. "Sounds good. Bye for now, then." 

"Bye, Thuri." Mairon hung up and almost immediately began to collect the items he'd need from around his room. The talisman he'd made years ago with runes carved into the stones. A curved silver knife with a notched blade. The glass jar of iron filings. The strand of prayer beads he'd bought on a whim years ago. His omnipresent folding mirror, set in an iron frame.

With a final glance out the window, Mairon sat down and waited for his parents to leave. As soon as they were out of sight, it would be all too easy to slip down the stairs and into the forest. Then he would see what the Appalachians held in store for him.


	2. You Looked At Me As Someone You Knew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mairon's first meeting with Melkor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from "When You Looked At Me"

Blue lights flared still in the forest, visible even from the place where Mairon carefully clambered from his window onto the green tiles of the sloped roof. He moved with caution until he reached the rock chimney leading down the side of the house.

Slipping his feet into the gaps between the rocks or onto the places where they protruded was a simple task. His knuckles whitened on the stones, bits of gravel and lichen spotting his face and shoulders as they were knocked loose from the chimney.

He jumped to the ground with a slight bump and easily righted himself, brushing the grit off his hands and briefly touching the hilt of his knife, a small reassurance.

The journey back into the forest was quick. Mairon followed the blue glow visible in the gaps between the trees and bushes. He walked blind, not bothering with a flashlight. He knew better than most that sight was untrustworthy in the wilds, instincts serving as a better means of navigation. Even when something akin to brittle rock crunched under his boots, Mairon didn't look down. He knew better.

The commonly traversed paths were behind him, but he only had eyes for what lay ahead. All too soon, two jagged boulders loomed out of the darkness, visible in the pale moonlight filtering through the canopy. Blue light shimmered in the space between them.

With a deep breath to steel himself, Mairon stepped between the rocks. He placed one hand on the rough surface, the boulder cool under his palm.

Beyond the gap, the wisps seemed to cluster in the distance. Mairon made his way towards them, stepping over rotting logs and weaving around tangled thorns and low-growing shrubs. The trees around the clearing that was his destination seemed eerily bare of leaves, trunks and branches bone white in the glow of the moon.

When at last he brushed aside the spindly branches blocking his access to the hazy lanterns in the clearing beyond. The moonlight was stronger without the layer of trees hiding the sky, the cold silver glow throwing every leaf and blade of grass into harsh relief.

Stepping into the mossy, boulder-strewn clearing, Mairon cautiously approached the gently gleaming miasma of wisps. He held out one hand on impulse, palm hovering over the shapeless mass.

The wisps retreated fast, rushing up past him with a noise like a stiff wind. He craned his neck to watch them sail up into the star-speckled sky. The branches of the bare trees sprawled against the darkness above like grasping fingers.

Mairon lowered his gaze to the forest floor as something moved in the corner of his vision. It was small and low to the ground, lurking in the shade around a mossy rock. His fingers curled around the hilt of his knife, prepared to have it between himself and an attacker in a heartbeat if need be.

He held his breath and adjusted his posture, knees bent and shoulders squared, falling into a well-practiced defensive stance as the creature drew slowly closer. When it padded onto a well-lit patch of moss, Mairon exhaled steadily in relief. He recognized the tufty brown fur, wrinkled snout, and tapered ears of the squonk from earlier.

"Just you, hm?" Mairon crouched down carefully. His hand slipped into his pocket and he felt around for the remains of the granola bar. Finding a small chunk, he held it out for the little creature.

The squonk approached him hesitantly, as though expecting him to lash out. Mairon clicked his tongue encouragingly, watching velvety ears perk up as it delicately snuffled at his outstretched fingertips.

Apparently deciding he wasn't a threat, it delicately ate the offered food. It was surprisingly gentle, muzzle hardly brushing his palm. Mairon held as still as possible, hardly daring to breathe. Getting a squonk to linger within arm's reach was a goal he had longed for but never achieved. Everyone searching for squonks wanted them for the fame and money of capturing a beast only rumored to exist, or to see for themselves how ugly the squonk was.

Mairon had never wanted more than to befriend a squonk. He'd seen them many times on his adventures, but his advancements in feeding them had only just begun to yield results.

When it finished eating, it sat neatly some distance away, tail curled neatly around the small feet. Mairon took the chance of carefully reaching into his bag and retrieving his sketchbook.

The creature tensed, shivering visibly, but didn't flee. It raised its chin and stared at him with wide brown eyes as he set pencil to paper and began a rough sketch, pale gray lines dancing over the blank paper. As the art took form, the squonk seemed to relax further. It held its pose, tension draining from the bunched muscles beneath the wiry pelt.

Mairon had finished the outline and was searching for his charcoal pencil to shade it properly when a sudden presence fell heavy onto the glade. The squonk stood rapidly and scurried off into the bushes as something flickered overhead. Mairon looked up in time to see a raven, dark feathers gleaming iridescent in the moonlight, set down upon a rock and examined him with beady eyes.

"You shouldn't be out this late." Mairon spoke aloud. The back of his neck prickled and he felt something settle there in his consciousness, earthy and ancient and forbidden. Then a voice, deep and resonating with the energy of the mountains themselves, sounded clear through the cold night air.

"You should not be out this late either."

His eyes slowly slid away from the bird and to the shape that had made itself known by the edge of the skeletal trees.

At first, the form was indistinct, but as Mairon focused better he noticed that it was draped in a feathery cloak, similar to the wing of the raven that had heralded the arrival of whoever now stood silently regarding Mairon.

Horns curled out of long black hair, sweeping back and curving gracefully like those of a mountain goat. The eyes were an icy, burning blue, set in an ivory pale face. The man was tall and broad-shouldered, form partially obscured by the cloak. Despite his bulk, he had a fae-like grace.

Mairon's mouth went dry. Completely taken off his guard, he struggled for the proper words. The blood drained from his face.

"You are human. The nighttime forest is not your domain." The man spoke in that quiet, rumbling voice once more. Mairon swallowed thickly. "I never claimed it as my domain. I only want to stay for a while."

"I believe I saw you earlier." He cocked his head, curiosity sparking in his eyes as he regarded the kneeling human.

"Perhaps you did." Mairon's heart pounded in his chest as he spoke. "I was following the wisps then too."

"Most humans who follow the lights do not return." He stated. Mairon nodded dumbly, unable to tear his eyes away from the tall creature before him. "I know that, but it was a risk I had to take."

"And why is that?" His cloak shimmered and ruffled in the wind. Mairon's ponytail was lifted slightly by the gusts, loose strands lashing across his freckled face.

"I was curious." Mairon said simply. The creature cocked his head. "Intriguing." A pause. "I am Melkor. What may I call you?"

"Mairon." He said his name without thinking and mentally kicked himself. Names held power. But he did not feel in danger or threatened. Normally his sense of forewarning would be shrieking in alarm by now, but it was almost disturbingly silent.

"Your presence is familiar." Melkor rested one hand on a boulder. Mairon bit back a gasp at the sight of charred fingers and blackened skin like smears of ash extending up his wrists.

"I spend a lot of time out here." He said as casually as possible.

"It would seem so. The squonks trust you." Melkor nodded towards the squonk, which had returned unnoticed and now stood pertly near the hem of Melkor's cloak.

"You can…communicate with them?" Mairon frowned in confusion. While strange, it was far from the most curious thing he'd encountered in the Appalachians.

"In a way." Melkor nearly smiled as the squonk affectionately rubbed its snout against his leg. That mysterious, almost sad half-smile made Mairon's heart jump into his throat.

"That one let me draw it." Mairon tilted the sketchbook towards Melkor almost unconsciously. Melkor knelt slightly to look at the drawing, his eyes flashing catlike in the moonlight.

"You waited for her permission?" His eyes widened slightly. Mairon nodded. "Of course. I wouldn't be alive right now if I didn't respect the mountains. I've been coming out here my entire life."

Melkor's eyes glittered with interest. "You certainly are brave. And clever, to have survived this long."

"Thank you. You must be too." Mairon stood slowly, brushing the bits of dead leaves from his jeans. He tucked the leather sketchbook and pencils into his bag.

The squonk trotted over to him, tail sweeping back and forth in wide arcs. Mairon reached down to carefully caress her, rubbing behind the pointed ears with one hand. His fingers barely touched her wiry fur, but she eagerly lifted her head to let him scratch her ears.

"She trusts you." Melkor said softly. His voice was barely audible, but it was impossibly deep and Mairon almost felt it in his bones.

"I have not seen anything like this before." He added, watching Mairon pet the squonk. Mairon broke into a grin, heady with his success.

When she had had enough, she scampered away and retreated into the spindly trees, soft footfalls fading away on the carpet of leaf litter.

Mairon straightened back up and opened his mouth to speak, not quite sure what he intended to say, but he was interrupted by the muted buzz of his phone in his back pack.

Melkor jumped back in surprise, pointed ears flattening back against his head and mouth opening in a silent snarl to reveal pointed canines.

"It's alright, it's just my phone." Mairon glanced down at the screen, squinting at the brightness. "I need to answer this, sorry."

Melkor watched him curiously as he answered the phone, ears perking up again.

"Mairon?" Thuringwethil sounded urgent. "Is something wrong? I told you not to call unless you had an emergency."

"Your parents are heading home early. Thought you might like to know. I get the feeling you aren't supposed to be out doing whatever you are."

"Oh." Mairon sighed in disappointment. "Thanks for the heads up. I'll start walking back."

"If you're near the road I'll send Gothmog out to pick you up." She offered. Mairon surveyed the forest around him briefly, trying to get his bearings. The thin line of asphalt caught his eye from between a gap in the trees, far below at the bottom of the slope.

"I am. Tell him I'll meet him at the intersection near the strip mall."

"Will do. Stay safe, Mai." Mairon played with the loose strands of hair framing his face. "You too. Thanks, Thuri."

He hung up and turned back to Melkor. "I have to go. I'm kind of not supposed to be out here right now."

Melkor looked curious. The raven fluttered over to perch on his shoulder, feathers seeming to merge with his garment.

"If you choose to return, I look forward to our second meeting." Melkor stood idly stroked the raven's head. The bird closed one eye and leaned into the touch of blackened fingers.

"If I don't come back to the mountains, assume I'm dead." Mairon said, only somewhat jokingly.

"You are most intruging." Melkor replied softly. "Farewell, Mairon. I hope to meet again soon."

Mairon nodded, turned away, and headed towards the edge of the clearing, the moss soft beneath his boots.

He could feel those icy blue eyes burning into his back even as he made his way down the slope, leaping nimbly from boulder to stump to knotted root. The wind picked up as he soared down the mountain, nimble even in the dark. The only sounds besides his breathing and the occasional heavy footfall were the whistle of the wind and the distant howling of the coyotes.

At least, Mairon was reasonably sure they were coyotes.

He reached the broad expanse of dirt and gravel at the edge of the intersection at roughly the same time as Gothmog. His friend unlocked the doors of his truck, looking almost wary.

"You alright?" Mairon asked, swinging easily into the passenger's seat. Gothmog didn't answer until they were back onto the road back to town.

"Yeah. I just hate crossroads at night. You never know what could happen there." His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel as he accelerated ever so slightly.

"I thought I was the superstitious one." Mairon chuckled. Gothmog frowned. "It's common sense, Mairon. You know more than anyone else that these mountains aren't exactly normal."

"Oh, I know. In fact, tonight I--" He broke off, unsure of how to explain his encounter to Gothmog.

"Do I want you to finish that sentence?" Gothmog asked. Mairon shrugged. "Look me in the eye and tell me." He grinned mischievously at Gothmog.

Gothmog groaned good-naturedly. "I'll take that as a 'hell no'."

Silence fell over the duo as they drove on, the occasional working streetlamp they passed flooding the cab with golden light. Most of the buildings in town had the usual iron grates rolled down over windows and glass doors. Mairon tensed as Gothmog swerved sharply to avoid a pothole.

"Is it just me, or have the roads been getting worse?" Mairon asked. Gothmog avoided his gaze. "Not just you." He answered shortly.

They didn't speak again until they pulled into the abandoned lot across from Mairon's house. Gravel crunched under Mairon's hiking boots as he climbed out of the truck. "Thanks for the lift. See you and Thuri tomorrow for lunch?"

"Sure. I haven't seen you two properly in too long." Gothmog leaned over to ruffle Mairon's crimson hair, making him smile. "I'll text you later, alright?"

"Sounds like a plan." Gothmog agreed. "Now get going before your parents kick your ass for running around in the woods at night."

Mairon mock saluted, then shouldered his bag and ran across the lot, strides lengthening and growing lighter until he seemed to hardly touch the ground. He darted across the street and around to the chimney.

As he climbed smoothly up into the warm glow of his bedroom window, the familiar sound of tires on gravel split the silence of the night. He hoisted himself over the windowsill and dropped neatly to the floor. He kicked his mud-spattered boots off and behind his desk and set his pack down on the foot of his bed.

As the door unlocked and his parents entered the house, Mairon collapsed onto his mattress with a heavy sigh.

The scent of ozone and clouds heavy with rain wafted through the window. Mairon rolled onto his front and pressed his cheek to the pillow as he remembered his encounter.

Melkor was intruging in ways Mairon hadn't even imagined possible. He had never met anyone, or any _thing_ , like him in all his wanderings through the mountains.

A shiver of anticipation traced down Mairon's spine, his mind already flying ahead to their next meeting.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything I write turns out so damn melancholy and I've finally found a way to channel that.


	3. Catch Lightning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sudden rainstorm leads to an arrangement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out kind of long but not quite enough to cut it into two chapters.

Mairon inwardly flinched at the comparative loudness of his footsteps as he hurried down the trail back to town. The air was still, the only sound was the crunch of leaves crushed beneath the occasional errant footfall.

Despite the unusual clumsiness of his headlong rush down the mountain, he was flush with success. The leather book in his bag held several more drawings of the squonks. More of the small creatures had begun to flock to him when he waited near their trails through the undergrowth and offered food.

He came down to the expanse of hard-packed dirt where he'd parked that morning and unlocked the truck. He placed his bag securely in its usual place in the passenger's seat before he set off for town.

The morning mist had burned away in the sun as it arced higher into the empty blue sky. The light was almost painfully bright out in the open, without the leaves filtering it.

Mairon had never understood the appeal of sunny days. The sun shone down far too hot and glaring. It was much more pleasant when gray clouds hung heavy in the sky or the thick canopy let the light through in thin streams.

  He rounded the curve of the mountain, where the natural rock face had been carved away long ago and a bare sheet of gray and white loomed jagged and cracked above the road. Thin clumps of vegetation sprouted from ledges or gaps in the stone, a feeble attempt at reclaiming the bare expanse.

Mairon admired them, in a way. No matter what happened to the mountains, life always came back in little resurgences.

"At least you keep trying." He muttered softly, eyes locked on the wispy grasses jutting seemingly from solid rock.

The rest of the drive was short. The diner was a little place that was probably as old as the surrounding town. It served as the default meetup place for most of the locals. For once Mairon, Thuringwethil, and Gothmog were no exception.

He parked out front, shouldered his bag, and walked over to the door, spotting Thuringwethil sitting in a booth near the window. Her pale lavender scarf stood out from her black coat and equally dark hair.

Mairon stepped into the building, the sudden chill of air conditioning causing him to shiver slightly despite his coat. He slid into the cracked leather seat across from his friend. "Hey, Thuri. Where's Gothmog?"

"He should be here soon. You're both late today." She scolded good-naturedly. Thuringwethil turned to the window expectantly, curling a strand of her short hair around one slender finger.

"I have good cause." Mairon placed his sketchbook on the table, unable to keep the grin of joy off his face. Thuringwethil raised one eyebrow and leaned forward on her elbows. "Oh?"

"I think the squonks trust me now." He opened the book to the pages with his latest art. She traced the lines of pencil with one long nail, green eyes wide with interest.

"If they held still long enough for you to draw this, they must." She breathed. She turned the page cautiously, as though afraid to rip the paper.

"These are amazing, Mai." Her voice was soft, her gaze flickering across the drawings.

He straightened a little in his seat, pride swelling in his chest. "Thanks! I've been feeding them for months. It took a lot of waiting--you have no idea how sore your muscles get, holding position like that--but it's all so worth it. They're actually really friendly, and their ears are so soft, and--"

Mairon broke off as he realized he was rambling and unconsciously shrank back in his seat. He hesitantly glanced at Thuringwethil to gauge her reaction, and was surprised to see a geniune grin slowly spreading across her pale face.

"You're smiling, Mai." She pointed out softly, resting her chin on the back of one hand. "Haven't seen you happy in a while."

Mairon stretched idly, staring out at the parking lot. "I suppose." He shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh look, Gothmog's here."

Gothmog opened the door as Mairon spoke, prompting Thuringwethil to half-turn. She waved to him, beckoning him over to their table.

"What's that?" He asked, dipping his chin towards the sketchbook still open on the table. Thuringwethil patted the seat next to her, glossy black nails standing out sharply from the peeling seat.

"Just my art. I saw some squonks today." Mairon kept his tone call, face arranged in a perfect mask of neutrality.

"Hm?" Gothmog tilted his head to look at them. Before he could say anything else, they were interrupted by a familiar voice. "You planning on ordering anything?"

Mairon immediately recognized the woman in the faded work clothes standing by their table. "Ilmarë! I had no idea it was your shift!" Thuringwethil voiced his thoughts.

She nodded, dyed blue hair brushing her shoulders as she placed a stack of menus on the table. "I changed schedules." Ilmarë's tone dropped. "Kept hearing some kind of animal outside during evening shifts. Probably a raccoon, worst case scenario a bear, but nothing I want to tangle with either way."

The look on her freckled face told Mairon it wasn't a bear or raccoon.

"Understandable." Gothmog muttered. Thuringwethil smiled again, but it was far more strained and didn't reach her stone-cold green eyes. "I think we need a few more minutes before ordering."

"I'll check up on you in five." Ilmarë spun neatly around to face the kitchens and walked away, fidgeting with the pencil clutched between two fingers.

Mairon briefly watched her go, then turned back to his friends. "Would you two be interested in coming out hiking with me later? I think you'd like it in the mountains."

Gothmog's brow furrowed. "The Appalachians are dangerous, Mai." He spoke unusually softly, as though afraid of being overheard.

"You'd be with me. I wouldn't take you far, and I can handle anything we'd encounter close to civilization." Mairon drummed his fingers on the tabletop. Gothmog's eyes were dark with uncertainty, but Thuringwethil looked interested.

"I'm down for it. I haven't been away from the clinic in way too long. Something's been going after stray animals lately. I'm up to my eyeballs in paperwork." Thuringwethil examined the plain silver ring on her index finger, twisting the band.

"Fine, as long as we don't go far in." Gothmog sounded wary. "Bad things happen out there. I know it, you know it, everyone knows it, even if people don't talk about it much."

"We'll stay close to the road, I promise." Mairon reaaured him. Gothmog relaxed a little, but the tension didn't fully leave his broad shoulders.

"So what have you been drawing?" Gothmog asked, changing the topic. Mairon's hand dipped to the zipper of his coat, flicking it back and forth idly. "Squonks. They finally trust me."

"Squonks?" Yet another familiar voice, though this time unpleasantly so. Mairon looked up, the back of his neck prickling.

Eonwë stood beside their booth, leaning on the back of Mairon's seat. Trailing behind him was a visibly uncomfortable Curumo, hair tied into a loose bun and dark circles under his eyes.

"Eonwë, I don't think we should--" Curumo tugged at the sleeve of his jacket, but Eonwë ignored him. He leaned over to look at Mairon's notebook. Mairon quickly closed it and slid it away, laying one arm over it protectively. "It's not your business." He said shortly.

"Is that what you do in the forest all day?" Derision made itself known in Eonwë's voice and on his face. Curumo shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot, color rising in his cheeks. "He's just a little odd." He explained weakly.

"Oh, come off it, Curumo." Thuringwethil sighed. "Let him be happy." Her expression became cautious, guarded.

"Why would you want to draw a squonk?" Eonwë persisted. "Ugly things, really." He shot Mairon a haughty look.

"We're not in high school anymore. Stop acting so goddamn superior." Thuringwethil snapped, visibly losing her patience. Eonwë leaned closer. "Don't tell me what to do."

"Eonwë, can we go eat somewhere else? Please?" Curumo tugged at his sleeve again. Eonwë turned to him and nodded. "Good idea."

They swept towards the glass door, Curumo shooting Mairon a scathing glance over his shoulder as he followed Eonwë out. Gothmog looked concerned. "Mai, are you alright?"

Mairon rubbed his temples. "Yeah." He sighed. "I just can't believe I ever liked him." Thuringwethil patted his forearm in sympathy. "I know its tough, but you'll get away from this one day."

She cocked her head slightly. "Besides, your art is cute. I like it." Gothmog nodded once in agreement, looking more than a little awkward after their encounter.

"Now let's get lunch before our little hiking trip, shall we?" Thuringwethil opened her menu and settled back in her seat, appearing relaxed, but her eyes told another story. Even with as much as Mairon hated eye contact, he could tell that there was real worry and hurt for him in her eyes.

He pretended to look at his menu and did his best to ignore the heavy knot of shame in his stomach.

 

 

~~~~

 

 

After their meal, Mairon drove them out to the trailhead where he'd parked that morning. Gothmog squinted suspiciously at the dark expanse of trees, but Thuringwethil seemed excited. She tipped her head back as a breeze caused her scarf to flutter, short curls of hair dancing around her face.

"This place isn't much better in the daylight." Gothmog remarked. "Gives me the creeps." He surveyed the empty road winding through the mountains and the jagged peaks slicing into the sky. The stream wending its way down the mountain curled around one side of the lot and vanished under the steel bridge, flowing away under the road.

"It's prettier when you get up the slope." Mairon explained, already making a beeline for the branches jutting from the edge of the forest. The trees seemed almost to reach for him, welcoming him home.

Thuringwethil followed right on his heels, with Gothmog trailing behind somewhat hesitantly. The climb was fairly easy, the slope was gentle and it was a pleasant day. The dim light beneath the canopy provided a pleasant break from the glaring daylight out in the open.

They traversed a dense grove of rhododendrons, stepping carefully over branches lying low to the ground and ducking under ones higher up. Gothmog cursed under his breath as he clumsily pushed his way through the trees. His bulk seemed to be giving him a considerable amount of difficulty. He was unsuited to weaving neatly through tight gaps or stepping lightly over and under branches.

The glossy green leaves brushed Mairon's face as he took pity on Gothmog and lifted a particularly hefty branch out of his way, bracing it on his hip to maneuver it out of the way. Gothmog muttered his thanks as he made his way for the other side of the rhododendrons.

The sound of water flowing fast over rocks made itself known. Gothmog looked around, confused. "Where's the stream? I don't see it."

"It's more of a cascade, really." Mairon nodded towards the thick row of holly trees that hid the place where the water spilled down the mountain in a cold, clear rush.

"See over there?" Mairon broke the silence, nodding towards an area where a thin line wound through the bushes, a path trampled there by the passage of little creatures. "That's a squonk trail. There's a nursery of them somewhere around here, probably in the gullies. I haven't seen it, but I've seen the baby squonks. They're hard to spot and I don't want to disturb them so I haven't looked around much."

Thuringwethil examined the trail with interest, crouching to look more closely at the bent stalks and dimpled mess of prints in the muddy ground. "Will we see a squonk?" She asked.

"They're shy. It took me months just to get close to one. They have to get used to you." Mairon's eyes shone as he explained the squonks. Thuringwethil looked mildly crestfallen. "Understandable. People like Eonwë exist, after all."

Gothmog let out a poorly-stifled snort at that. "Damn."

The three lingered in the clearing in silence, save for the sounds of the forest. Thuringwethil was still looking over the trail in the brush, somehow avoiding muddying her jeans. Gothmog had perched himself on a boulder in a patch of sunlight and seemed to finally be relaxing properly.

Mairon himself wandered aimlessly about the little glade, hopping up onto the log rotting away half-enshrouded in brambles. Little red mushrooms sprouting from the side of the softening wood caught his eye, and he knelt to observe them. The wood crumbled away further beneath his touch, nearly sending him toppling into the thorns.

As he reclaimed his balance, something seemed to crackle through the air. The scent of ozone, sharp yet faint, seared his nostrils. He frowned in confusion.

The jolt of energy came again. He looked up with wide eyes and found the swirling bank of gray clouds descending over him.

"Thuri, Gothmog, we should probably head back soon." He spoke quietly as the wind picked up. Dead leaves skittered across the forest floor.

"We just got out here." Gothmog sounded puzzled. Thuringwethil stood and walked over to the log where Mairon was perched. She tilted her head back, shading her face with one hand, and sucked in a sharp breath.

"Weather's acting up." Thuringwethil explained. Gothmog joined the pair and peered into the sky. His eyes went wide when he noticed the stormclouds.

"You aren't kidding." He muttered. Mairon stepped neatly off the log, ignoring the bits of bark sloughing off when his boot ground down too hard.

"Come on, this way." Mairon ordered stiffly, already making his way out of the glade with swift strides. Appalachian storms were not a force to be trifled with.

As the first fat drops of rain began to fall, the trio made their way down the slope. Thuringwethil swore when her scarf caught on a thin branch, running the thin fabric. She tugged it free and continued after her companions, jogging slightly to keep up.

The descent was quick, the canopy shielding them from the worst of the rain even though it came down in sheets. The ground turned muddy and soft faster than it should have, but Mairon ignored it.

As they broke from the treeline and the lot came into view, something caught Mairon's eye.

The stream was overflowing, water whipped into a white foam and pounding through the gully with frightening force. It wasn't quite overflowing, but it wasn't far from tipping over the brink and flowing into the lot.

Mairon froze as a realization hit him.  _If it's this bad down here, what must it be like further up at the squonk dens?_

"You two get in the car and head back!" Mairon shouted above the crack of thunder and roar of rain. He unclipped his backpack, dug his keys out of his pocket, and pressed them both into Thuringwethil's hands. Then he was turning back to the forest, slipping clumsily on the wet grass of the slope.

"Are you insane?" Gothmog demanded, reaching for his shoulder but missing as Mairon darted out of reach.

"I have to get the squonks out of the gullies!" Mairon called over his shoulder. Thuringwethil looked worried, but took Gothmog's arm. "Come on, he can handle himself."

Mairon didn't bother to answer as he darted back into the woods, legs burning with the effort of running uphill in a storm.

He wove between the trees, grace not lost even in his wild dash, seeming to fly over rocks and brush and logs. It wouldn't be long before the cascade overflowed into the gullies where the squonks lived. The babies were vulnerable and could never outrun the torrent of floodwater.

Mairon followed the squonk trail, ignoring the brambles snaring on his clothes and occasionally catching at his hands. The brush seemed to close in around him, stifling him in a thorny labyrinth. He was unsure if it was entirely his imagination.

As he crashed through the hollies, the ground seemed to melt away from beneath his feet. He skidded down the gully, narrowly twisting to avoid a boulder and landing with a splash at the bottom.

Water had already begun to pour through from further up, surging white-capped waves soaking his jeans halfway to his knees. His ears caught the piercing squeals of frightened squonks.

He waded quickly through the flood, shivering with the chill of the water. The footing was unstable but he managed to stay upright as he looked frantically for the nest, hidden somewhere in the walls of the gully.

Movement near a small hole in the slope caught his eye. A young squonk was balancing at the entrance to a burrow, eyes shining with oddly human fear. Several more huddled behind it, barely visible behind their littermate. The floodwater had begun to trickle into their burrow in small streams, but the water kept rising far faster than it should have. Soon they would be flooded out.

Mairon scrambled over to them, splashing water in all directions. He removed his jacket as he approached, tugging too harshly on the zipper in his haste. His shirt instantly clung to his skin as the black fabric became heavy with rainwater.

The coat was nearly soaked through, but he bundled the squonks into it anyway. One of them shied away from him, squeaking in alarm, but soon seemed to realize that Mairon was its only chance at escape.

He lifted them into his arms with ease. The little scraps of fur weighed practically nothing. They squirmed in his arms, but let him hold them.

Carrying all four of the tiny creatures close to his chest, he began to flounder back towards higher ground, only to stop and look down in confusion as water lapped at his thighs.

 _It shouldn't be rising this fast._  He gazed wide-eyed at the churning water, then broke out of his reverie and continued towards the edge of the gully, which had practically become a riverbank.

Pebbles shifted under his feet, and he nearly hurtled face-first into the water. He threw out one arm instinctively and almost dropped the squonks. They squealed and writhed in the jacket as his other arm tightened over them.

One of them thrashed too violently and broke from his hold. It fell into the fast-moving water.

"No!" Mairon lunged after it, losing his newly-regained balance. He toppled into the flood. Water filled his mouth and nose, his vision blurry in the greenish-brown world below the surface.

Then something wrapped around his waist and hauled him upright. The sudden pressure on his midsection was slightly painful, but Mairon didn't care. He clutched the squonks closer to his chest. They made soft sputtering noises mixed with distressed chirps as Mairon was lifted into the air, the person holding him adjusting their grip.

Blinking the water from his eyes, Mairon recognized the man holding him out of the flood.

He was being carried towards high ground by Melkor. The rain seemed to roll harmlessly off his glossy cloak as he easily lifted Mairon onto the bank and set him down.

"What are you holding?" Melkor asked, words rushed in his urgency. Mairon spat out a mouthful of water and rubbed his eyes.

"Squonks. There was another but it fell..." Mairon didn't get the chance to finish his sentence before Melkor was turning away and moving through the flood with inhuman speed.

Mairon wasn't sure how, but Melkor seemed to spot the squonk almost immediately. Mairon saw it a second after he did, following his gaze to a cluster of boulders where the creature was trapped by the current.

Melkor was by its side in a heartbeat, reached down to cup it in blackened hands and lift it free of the rocks. He waded out of the flood and clambered onto the bank beside Mairon.

"Can you stand?" He asked softly, taking the bundle of squonks from Mairon's arms with gentle hands and tucking their littermate in beside them. Mairon nodded and rose to his feet. His clothes were soaked and thoroughly muddied but it didn't matter for the moment.

"Follow me. I know a place we can wait out the storm." Melkor's voice was barely audible above the rolls of thunder. Mairon nodded once more and stayed on his heels as he took off into the woods.

The branches waved precariously over their heads, tossed by the stiff gusts, as they traversed the mountain. Mairon was vaguely aware that their route took them higher in the Appalachians, winding up the mountain.

They emerged onto a ridge, free of the cover of trees and bare of all but grass, strewn boulders, and wiry stands of brush. Melkor veered sharply, balancing easily on the sharply angled slope, as he made his way towards a rocky area littered with outcroppings of stones.

They reached a gap between two boulders jutting from the side of the ridge. Melkor slipped between them and into the darkness beyond. Mairon hesistated for a moment. Going underground in the mountains was almost a death wish. Walking atop the Appalachians was dangerous enough, but the caves and deep places were the domain of things too ancient and deadly to be comprehended by mortal minds.

As lightning arced across the black clouds above and thunder crashed ear-splittingly loud, Mairon made his choice and crouched to enter the cave beside Melkor.

The cave was small and cramped, with a sandy floor littered with small stones. Melkor's eyes flashed blue in the thick darkness, his cloaked form silhouetted by the watery light from the entrance.

"Will they be okay?" Mairon asked, brow creasing as Melkor set down the bundle of squonks. Melkor took a moment to answer, looking over the small creatures with a sharp gaze, before nodding.

"I believe they will." He stroked one of their heads, delicately rubbing in between the soft ears with one long finger. Mairon peered closely at them as his eyes adjusted, looking for injuries but seeing none.

"The adults should be along after the storm passes to take them home." Melkor explained.

"What were you doing near the gullies in weather like this?" Mairon asked, easing himself into a comfortable sitting position. Melkor frowned.

"This storm is not normal. The stream overflowed too fast. I could feel it happening. I tried to cast a spell to prevent it, but it did not work." Melkor looked out at the leaden sheet of rain at the mouth of the cave.

"A spell?" Mairon instantly leaned forward, eyes bright with interest. When Melkor tilted his head in a slight nod, Mairon grinned. "I've been experimenting with stuff like that since high school. I could never get it quite right though."

"I was taught spellweaving once, a long time ago." Melkor explained. "It can be…complex."

"You got that right." Mairon half scoffed. "I've never been able to channel it right. It's like it gets blocked before it can form properly. Does that ever happen to you?"

Melkor cocked his head, ears flattening slightly as he thought. "On occasion. It did today. I could not hold back the stream."

"Maybe it didn't want to be held back." Mairon wasn't sure if he was joking or not, and judging by the look on Melkor's face, neither was he.

"That could be. It hadn't occurred to me." Melkor regarded him with curious blue eyes. "You continue to surprise me. If I may ask, why were you in the gullies? Surely you knew they'd flood."

Mairon sighed. "I did. But I also knew there was a nest of baby squonks there. I couldn't let them drown."

"That I also knew. I was there to rescue them and see if I could figure out what blocked my spell." Melkor was visibly more relaxed. His cloak shimmered with iridescence as he adjusted his position, stretching catlike before leaning back against the wall.

"Did you find what blocked it?" He inquired. Melkor raised an eyebrow. "No. Instead I found a human apparently intent on drowning in the gully."

Mairon laughed. "Hey, I was trying to help. I didn't know you were on your way." There was a pause, Melkor briefly focusing on wringing water out of Mairon's coat before nestling the squonks back into it. Mairon silently marveled at how delicate he was with the small creatures, despite his large hands and overall bulk.

"You know, I could help you find out why your spell didn't work." Mairon offered quietly. Melkor raised his head, eyes glittering with interest and ears perking towards him. "You aren't a caster." He pointed out.

"I could be." Mairon shrugged. Melkor tilted his head to the side, almost owl-like. "Are you suggesting…I teach you?" He sounded almost shy, as though afraid to even voice the idea.

"If--well, if that's alright." Mairon said softly. He focused his attention on a small hole in the knee of his jeans, plucking at the threads nervously. The pause stretched on for far too long.

"I think it could work out." Melkor admitted. Mairon hesitantly met his eyes, hardly daring to hope, but he seemed sincere. No trace of mockery or derision was in that soft tone or written on his face. He looked more human, more vulnerable, than any fae Mairon had ever encountered.

Mairon's heart leapt, and he wasn't sure if it was from their newfound agreement or the look in Melkor's eyes and the softness of his voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It takes me an ungodly amount of time to reply to comments, but I assure you I love every one of them.


	4. Veiled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melkor takes Mairon home through the mist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene ran away with me so it got a chapter of its own. Enjoy!

  The mist rolled over the tumbled boulders and windswept shrubs of the ridge, descending in gusts of silver-gray. Mairon sat in the entrance to the cave, watching with wide amber eyes. The distant peaks were obscured by the clouds, once-sharp distinction between mountain and sky blurring into a foggy line.

"It is beautiful, is it not?" Melkor spoke softly, making him jump slightly. Melkor had a nasty habit of moving silently without meaning to, as Mairon had discovered during their afternoon-long stay in the cave.

"It is." Mairon said, relaxing again as Melkor settled in beside him. The rain was coming to a halt, a light drizzle falling instead of pounding leaden sheets. He frowned as a thought struck him.

"How am I supposed to get back? You know as well as I what comes out after storms like that one." He half-glanced at Melkor. His brow furrowed slightly as he seemed to think for a moment, before his ears perked forwards slightly and his eyes shimmered. "I could help you through the trees, back to the edge of your town."

"The trees? Does that work? Can't they climb, or jump, or--" Melkor cut him off with a single look. "They can't. If you keep moving, the trees will keep you safe."

"Alright. What about getting to the forest? We're on a ridge." Mairon peered out nervously into the white morass. "The mist touches everything out there." Melkor leaned down to idly stroke one of the baby squonks, now curled in a sleeping bundle in Mairon's coat. "I could carry you." He offered nonchalantly.

Mairon couldn't keep back the hot flush rising in his cheeks. "You what?"

"I could carry you. I move faster. The Appalachians have been my home for years upon years. I can pass through the mists, at least for a time." He explained. Mairon looked at the squonks pointedly. "What about them?" He asked, nodding in their direction.

Melkor twitched one ear. "I'll drop them off in the gullies. The flood has gone down by now, I can sense it. Their group will be there soon enough, and they can hide in their burrow until then."

Mairon looked slightly wary and Melkor laid one hand gingerly on his shoulder. "Do not worry. I will ensure their safety." A pause, the two gazing at each other for several heart-stopping moments. Mairon noticed the faint scars arcing across Melkor's face, narrowly missing his left eye and slicing through his brow and cheek.

"I care for them just as much as you do." Melkor added softly. Mairon swallowed. "Yeah. As long as they're safe." He gazed at them, watching them nap in a huddle. One of them snuffled in its sleep, stretching out its spindly hind legs. They both smiled at the sight.

"What else do you do in the forests?" Melkor asked. Mairon drummed his fingers against the hard-packed earth of the cave floor. "Draw stuff. Climb trees. Explore the ruins. Occasionally I talk to the beings out here, or just encounter them. A lot of the I just hike and explore. I've got the mountains around here pretty well mapped out."

"You must have remarkable patience." Melkor said, eyes flickering with a glassy blue glow. Mairon shrugged. "I do what it takes to survive out here."

"You are also an explorer, you do not seek your own gain." Melkor spoke slowly and thoughtfully. "Of course I don't. The Appalachians might be dangerous, but they're a better home than anything my town could give me."

"I know how you feel." Melkor peered out over the steep slope, dropping away to the treeline below. "We should go soon. I want to get the squonks back to their kind."

"Good idea." Mairon tried to keep the apprehension out of his voice. The mists were deadly. It had been drummed into him since he was a child: never, ever go out in the fog after a storm. That was one of the few pieces of childhood advice Mairon had ever cared to obey.

No one was sure what lurked in the fog after the storms lashed the forest, but no one wanted to find out.

Melkor securely bundled the squonks into Mairon's coat and handed them to him. Mairon clutched them close to his chest, a fleeting smile crossing his face when one of them awoke for a moment, decided he wasn't a threat, and nestled back against its siblings.

"I'll carry you to the trees. Come on." Melkor stepped out of the cave and stood. Mairon hesitantly exited, shivering at the cold air on his bare arms. He paused to tie the arms of his coat around his shoulder into a sling.

The air seemed to quiver, causing them both to tense up. "Come on, Mairon." Melkor lifted him carefully into his arms. Mairon's heart thudded as he clung to the squonks, who had begun to stir.

“Hold onto them.” Melkor nodded to the squonks before he took off across the ridge. Mairon yelped at the sudden movement and leaned against Melkor, balancing himself in the other’s arms.

Melkor moved with an unearthly gait, swift and light-footed, across the windswept grass. He neatly avoided the lichen-covered boulders and made his way to the top of the ridge, pace speeding up as he carried Mairon through the swirling mist. The fog seemed to thicken around them.

Mairon’s blood rushed in his ears. He felt as though he was in slow motion, but Melkor didn’t seem to be affected. He moved easily through the silver veil, strides long and fast. He made no noise, and yet something thudded lightly against the ground somewhere in the low-hanging clouds. It seemed to be everywhere and yet nowhere.

Mairon hung onto the squonks and silently urged Melkor to run faster.

The dark front of the trees loomed ahead of them. Melkor took several bounding strides that carried him over the low shrubs by the treeline, and then launched himself up into the lower branches of a hemlock. Mairon had no idea how he climbed without using his hands, leaping light as a feather from branch to branch and easily gaining altitude.

Melkor stopped when he was standing securely in the crook of a large branch, balancing with ease on the reddish bark. Mairon’s head spun a little when he caught a glimpse of how high up they were, the mist hiding the ground below them.

Suddenly he felt weightless in Melkor’s arms. Air rushed past them as Melkor sprung nimbly to a neighboring tree, landing lightly on a mossy branch and taking off around the tree. He didn’t slow or halt, flying through the branches. His cloak billowed out behind him like the wings of the ravens he loved, iridescent greens and purples gleaming dully on the black feathers.

The world seemed to gray out and blur around them. The tension in the air melted to the background. Melkor abruptly dropped down several branches, making Mairon gasp, but his footing remained steady and he propelled himself forward with a massive leap between hemlocks.

Despite knowing that a single misstep could send them both to the mercy of the things stalking the mists, Mairon felt oddly peaceful. The squonks were warm in his coat and seemed to know better than to squirm. Melkor was strong and his arms were steady around Mairon.

And then they were dropping down, Melkor moving with fae-like grace down through the broad branches to drop onto the leaf-strewn forest floor. The sharp edge of one of the gullies loomed out of the fog.

Melkor set Mairon down. “Hand them to me.” He asked softly, extending his arms. Mairon obeyed silently, watching the great care with which Melkor handled the squonks. He carried them to the gully and paused at the edge. “Do not go anywhere, Mairon. If you hear danger approach, call for me but do not run. Your sight is not as clear as mine.” He precautioned. Mairon nodded, and Melkor vanished into the gully.

Standing alone in the forest, the presence among the trees seemed to grow more and more overwhelming, bearing down on Mairon. He shivered, and not only from the cold. The minutes ticked by, unbearably long.

Something was approaching. He could not say what, or from where, but the presence shoved at his subconscious, stalking him, predator and prey. A shudder travelled down his spine as he looked wildly around. A twig snapped, breaking the oppressive silence hanging over the mountains.

“Melkor!” Mairon called, the cry tearing itself subconsciously from his throat. He heard rapid footsteps only a few heartbeats later. A figure loomed out of the mist. He barely had time to register that it was Melkor before arms wrapped around him and he was lifted into the air once more.

“Are they safe?” He asked as Melkor leapt for the tree. He wrapped his arms around Melkor’s shoulders as they ascended, clinging to him like he was a lifeline. Given their circumstance, he probably was.

“Yes. Their parents had already returned to the burrow. Their reunion was...sweet. The parents were happy to see them." Melkor spoke conversationally, as though he wasn't sprinting through the trees. Mairon smiled and rested his head against Melkor's chest subconsciously. The dark fabric of his tunic was surprisingly soft.

The only sounds in the cloud-veiled forest were Melkor and Mairon's breathing and the sound of footsteps on branches, with breaks in between trees that seemed to stretch into infinity. Debris occasionally snapped off beneath booted feet and spun away, towards the ground enshrouded in clouds.

"Where are you going to drop me off?" Mairon asked. His voice felt eerily loud.

"At the edge of the fields beside your town. I will stay there until you are among your kind." Melkor's ears twitched slightly, the pointed tips pale against his mane of black hair.

Mairon opened his mouth to respond, but it turned into a sharp gasp as Melkor jumped over a massive gap, dropping what felt like several stories. His fingers curled into Melkor's cloak, the soft feathers bunched between his knuckles.

The branch they landed on bobbed wildly, but Melkor sprinted along it heedlessly. It swayed precariously and Mairon held his breath, bracing for a fall, but it never came.

Melkor chuckled low in his chest, the sound vibrating against Mairon from where he was tucked up against him. "Not what you expected?"

"I've travelled by canopy before, but not like this." Mairon admitted, exhaling slowly as he relaxed his death grip on the cloak.   
  
"This is how I get around." Melkor explained. "If someone suspects my presence, they will look all around them, but no one ever looks up."

Mairon nodded. "I learned that the hard way. Almost got jumped by a puma." Melkor made a faint noise of shock. "It is a miracle you escaped. You continue to surprise me, Mairon."

A small smile graced Mairon's lips. "Usually when people say that it's a bad thing." Melkor tilted his head, somehow looking curious without taking his eyes off the branches ahead. "I find it refreshing."

Mairon smiled despite the dark presence simmering below them on the forest floor. The world around him swirled with mist, the shapes blurring together in the veil. The air felt humid and heavy despite the cold. And, somehow, Mairon felt more alive than he could remember in recent days.

Finally, they came out of the trees and landed in a large patch of ferns at the edge of the woods. The fields spilled away towards the lights shining in the town, visible clearly through the gaps in the foliage.

"Will I see you again?" Mairon asked, words slipping out unbidden. He looked down in sudden embarrassment as he realized how needy he sounded. Melkor's ears perked towards him with interest, and his eyes flared with light. "Of course. Whenever you wish it."

"How will I--" Melkor cut him off by pressing his coat into his hands. "Do you know of the waterfall on the northern side of the mountain?" He asked.

"Yes." Mairon answered, raising one eyebrow. Melkor smiled. "Meet me there mid-afternoon in two days. I will prepare a means of communication for us. I desire to see you more often, Mairon. I like you very much."

Mairon felt his face heat up. "I-I like seeing you too." He stammered, shifting in place with a mix of shyness and something else, something that made his heart pound.

He dared to sneak a glance at Melkor and noticed a similar blush creeping onto his pale face. "We have a plan, then."

"You should get going. The sun is setting." Melkor nodded towards the glow of the town. Mairon tied his jacket around his waist with fumbling fingers. "Nice seeing you again, Melkor." He spoke softly.

Melkor just smiled mysteriously. Mairon took off down the hill with a final glance at the fae. The grass and wildflowers were wet from the earlier storm, soaking through the cuffs of his jeans.

He felt Melkor's eyes on him until he reached the perimeter of town, at which point the presence melted away. As he rounded the side of his house, he noticed that his truck was parked in the driveway, mud spattered across the wheels.

Mairon let himself in the front door as quietly as possible. As he sat down to unlace his mudstained boots, a soft footstep from the kitchen made him glance up.

Thuringwethil stood in the doorway. "Hey, Mai. I came here to wait for you. You're back late."

"You sound awful nonchalant about me being out in the mist." Mairon joked. Thuringwethil's jaw tightened. "Don't push your luck, I hardly managed to cover for you. Your stuff is in your room."

"Sorry you had to deal with them." Mairon kicked off his shoes and stood to face her. She was nearly as tall as him, black hair curling around her sharp features and intense eyes.

"It's not a huge deal. Nothing I haven't done before." She shrugged. "But you might want to wash your clothes. You smell like wet dog."

"That would be the squonks." Mairon sighed, noticing the brown hairs clinging to his coat. "Thanks for covering for me. It means a lot. I'd hug you, but, well…" He gestured to his thoroughly wrecked clothes, still damp from the storm and stained with dirt.

She grinned. "No problem. I'll be heading home now, it's getting late and I have the early shift at the clinic tomorrow. You need to come by sometime, maybe help me clean some cages."

"Can do." Mairon dipped his head to her. She let herself out, pausing to wave to him from the wooden steps out front.

Mairon watched her walk off down his driveway. Her house wasn't far away, just a block over, and he knew she could handle herself, but his protective instincts were in full swing. The borders between wilderness and civilization blurred on occasion, and it seemed, with increasing frequency.

He tore his gaze away from her retreating back and climbed to the second floor, stairs creaking beneath his bare feet.

Already his mind was lost to daydreams. They seemed to focus, curiously enough, on the clearing with the waterfall on the northern side of the mountain.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are much appreciated, even if I'm shitty at replying in a decent amount of time.


	5. Pass The Test

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Called into the wilds by a mysterious wave of psychic distress, Mairon gains an ally.

The soil was warm beneath Mairon’s hands as he tugged at a stubborn dandelion, uprooting it from the rich earth of the garden. He reached into the small hole it left behind and cleared out the feathery roots, shaking the dirt off delicately before tossing the remains of the planet into the small basket sitting beside him.

 

 The wooden gate creaked open, hinges protesting beneath layers of rust. Mairon looked up in time to see his mother enter the garden, golden hair plaited and sunlight glaringly bright off her white t-shirt.

 

 “How’s the weeding going?” She asked, kneeling beside the tomato plants on the other edge of the plot of land. Mairon shrugged. “It’s alright. They don’t seem to want to come out of the ground, though.” 

 

 “Pretty typical.” She looked the collection of uprooted plants up and down, then gave him an approving nod. “Keep it up. I’ll get the other side.” 

 

 Mairon nodded, attention already shifted back to the multitude of weeds cropping up among the mint plants. ‘There’s a lot of these.” He said with concern. “Did they always used to grow this thick?”

 

 “No.” Yavanna answered simply, not looking up from her spot among the tomatoes. Judging by the finality of her tone, she was done answering questions.

 

 Locating another dandelion, Mairon grasped the base and pulled hard. The soil slowly relinquished its hold on the roots, nearly sending him reeling with effort.

 

 As he righted himself, he felt  _ something _ ripple through the earth. He pressed both palms flat to the bare dirt and frowned in concentration, leaning forward unconsciously. A few seconds of quiet passed before another surge of energy passed through the ground below him, quaking faintly into his knees and hands.

 

 His frown grew as he squeezed his eyes shut and managed to discern a distinct pulse of  _ distress _ . Somewhere in the mountains, something had just gone horribly wrong. 

 

 A sudden tug of energy in his gut made him look up suddenly, gazing out to the peaks reaching into the clear blue sky. The source of the rippling line of energy was calling out, and it had reached him in its flailings.

 

 “What’s wrong?” Yavanna sounded both puzzled and worried. She must have spotted his frown and his stare into the distance. She followed his gaze, shading her eyes with one hand. “What’s out there?”

 

“Nothing.” Mairon spoke a little too quickly. Yavanna narrowed her eyes. “I know that look, Mairon. What happened?”

 

 “I-I can’t explain.” Mairon bowed his head, eyes half closed as he felt around for the energy. He pressed his fingers harder into the ground. A strong ripple of pain and fear tingled in his fingertips and chest, making him gasp softly at the intensity. 

 

 “You don’t look well. Head inside for a while, get some water. I can handle the weeding.” Yavanna nodded towards the screen door. Mairon stood, grateful for the reduced contact with the ground. He headed inside quickly, nearly slipping on the wooden steps in his haste. 

 

  He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror hanging in the hallway, his face pale beneath his freckles and his eyes dark. Ignoring the slightly ill look about him, he swept his hair into a neat bun, draped his favorite scarf around his neck, and retrieved the backpack he always kept prepared for spur-of-the-moment excursions. As quietly as possible, he let himself out the back door. He still felt shaky from the surges of psychological distress, but it was nothing he hadn’t experienced before. Nothing he couldn’t grit his teeth and stick through.

 

 The trail, invisible to all but Mairon, pulled him to the east, across the road and looping around the peak that jutted out above a low area, hidden from the town by the relatively small mountain. 

 

 He began to doubt the tug of his instincts while rounding a barren shale slope above vivid green fields. It was all too easy for a fae to lure an unsuspecting traveller into the wilds by imitating an innocent being in danger, sending along waves of psychic distress into the minds of whoever passed by. 

 

 But Mairon recalled times when he had been in that exact situation. There was always a tinge, however well hidden, of malice and hunger tainting the otherwise-earnest signal of sorrow. His instincts always warned him, often proving more trustworthy than his eyes or ears. And now, they came up with nothing but honest distress.

 

 Emboldened, he followed the invisible trail over boulders and logs and creeks, beneath mossy boughs of oak trees and low-hanging rhododendron branches. It was a short hike and would have been thoroughly enjoyable were it not for the insistent, nagging distress guiding him ever onwards.

 

 Some time later, he came upon an alpine clearing in an area densely populated by evergreens. The wooden remnants of a once-impressive farm loomed out of the forest. Squirrels, birds, and other things chittered at him from their perches in the trees. 

 

 He opened the rusty gate and entered the fenced-in perimeter of the farm. As soon as he was within the fenceline, a surge of distress made his head spin. His eyes lighted upon the half-open door to the dilapidated storehouse, and he knew without doubt that the source of the pain he felt was beyond the moldering wooden slats.

 

 He headed up the rocky pathway, overgrown with weeds. The pastures and gardens too were crowded with high grasses and shrubbery. Movement flickered in the broken windows below the peaked roof of the farmhouse, but Mairon knew better than to look directly at it or spare it a second glance.

 

 Hesitantly, he placed his hand on the rotting wood of the storehouse door and slowly pulled it open, flinching at the ear-splitting creak of rusted metal. Taking a moment to let his eyes adjust from dazzling sunlight to the musty darkness inside the building, he stepped inside. Something crunched under his boots, but he ignored it. It was always for the best to pay no mind to the strange things underfoot.

 

 The boards creaked dangerously in places as he made his way into the room. Shelves, some crumbling or knocked over entirely, loomed out of the darkness within. The remnants of glass jars gleamed dully on the floor like white sand, spilling out from under the rubble of the shelves. Bare bits of twine, some clutching to blackened strands of organic matter, hung from the rafters. 

 

 In the darkness under the slats of the staircase, something moved.

 

 Mairon turned towards it slowly, so as not to startle any animal or particularly jumpy fae that could be there in the gloom under the steps. He tried to look as non-threatening as possible, keeping his features aligned in an expert poker face. This particular skill had saved his life several times in the past.

 

“Hello?” He asked, voice little more than a whisper and yet too loud in the gloom of the storehouse. The thing under the stairs shifted again, pale orange eyes opening and reflecting the light from the half-open doorway. The air hummed with tension.

 

 A soft, pained noise split the deafening silence. Mairon cautiously approached the creature, footsteps muffled by the thick layer of dust on the floorboards. The scent of blood, tangy and metallic, hit him like a wave when he knelt beside the bulk of the creature. 

 

 As his eyes adjusted further, he made out the shape of a giant puma, easily twice the size of the ones Mairon had seen on occasion. Rounded ears topped the broad head, those lamplike eyes gleaming at him. It was all muscle and wiry fur and sinew, lying in a heap in that small space beneath the stairs. Old wire wrapped around its long legs, barbs hooked deep into the flesh of the puma.

 

 “I will not hurt you.” Mairon assured, pouring all his goodwill and sympathy for the creature into the mental bond it had extended. The tension in the air seemed to ease as he extended a gentle hand, letting the puma see it, before lightly prodding at the rusted wire between two barbs.

 

 It snarled at him, deep in its throat, teeth glinting brightly. Mairon pulled his hand back. “Alright, that’s alright. It’s okay, I won’t hurt you. Let me find the end and I can untangle you.” 

 

 He began to trace the wire with his eyes, following each knot and tangle around the tawny legs and broad sides, until he caught sight of the frayed end poking out from beneath one massive paw.

 

 Lifting the broad paw and carefully avoiding the slits where razor-sharp claws could descend at a moment’s notice, Mairon managed to slowly peel the barbs looped around its ankle away. It snarled and hissed, and he froze but did not retreat despite the sudden spike in his heart rate. When the puma stilled once more, as though in defeat, Mairon continued his endeavor. 

 

 Though some of the barbs were hooked particularly deep, Mairon managed to ease them free. Blood bubbled up around his fingers, and he flinched in sympathy. The puma shuddered but did not attack him or attempt to escape.

 

 Mairon kept unwinding the wire, fingers nimble and delicate. Bits of rust spotted his pale skin and the animal’s pale pelt. He sucked air through his teeth as he noticed the wire thoroughly entangling one back paw, slicing into the pads and leaving a sticky mess of blood around it. He managed to pry the barbs out with some difficulty, cleaning away the dried crust of blood with his fingernails. Once the paw was freed, he moved on to the last segment of wire. Occasionally he held up a leg or gently rolled the big cat to one side or the other ever so slightly, just enough to free the last of the barbed wire.

 

 As he carefully discarded the blood-smeared coil, the boards beneath him creaked menacingly. Mairon froze, crouched awkwardly beside the puma. His thighs burned with the stretch of holding his position. The big cat’s head shot up. It sniffed the air, then growled deep in its chest and attempted to rise.

 

 “Don’t--” Mairon began, but it was too late. It swayed unsteadily for a moment, then crashed to the ground the moment it put pressure on its injured hind paw.

 

 The floorboards groaned and shuddered, then gave way with an ear-splitting crack. Mairon yelped as he plunged into the darkness below, dust filling the air around him.

 

 The moment he hit the ground a thankfully-short distance below, he tucked his chin to his chest and rolled away from the falling boards on instinct. The puma twisted in the air and landed heavily, unable to turn properly in the space of a short fall.

 

 Mairon uncurled his body and sat up, blinking the dust from his eyes. He could hardly see without the light from the door. Moving as little as possible, he slipped his hand around and removed the small flashlight from his pack.

 

 The sudden flood of harsh golden light both illuminated a stone cellar full of dilapidated furnishings and drifts of cobwebs and made the puma snarl loudly. Mairon held up his hands in a calming gesture and clicked his tongue softly. Though he knew the creature could easily kill him if it wished, his first instinct was of kindness. It was frightened, yes, but not malicious.

 

 Sure enough, it calmed and lay back down with a weak shiver. 

 

 “It’s alright. We fell but we’re okay now. Let me look at your wounds.” Mairon soothed. The puma regarded him with suspicion, but apparently deemed him trustworthy. He set down his pack and withdrew the first aid kit that he always kept in a side pouch for easy access. 

 

 Flashlight clamped between his teeth, Mairon rummaged through the kit for the small bottle of antiseptic and the roll of gauze. Locating both, he wet a gauze pad with the fluid and began to gently clean each small puncture wound.

 

 It took a while, but Mairon managed to clean away the clumps of tawny brown fur matted with blood, aided by the small scissors from the first-aid kit. Thankfully none of the wounds went deep. They were easy enough to clean, but what stood out to him was the unusual burns that stood out, charred black, wherever he parted the fur, visible now in the flashlight’s beam.

 

 The worst was the thoroughly-bloodied paw. Mairon undid his scarf and tied it carefully over it, padding it in places with thick gauze. He tied it off around its ankle and tested the knot carefully, making sure it wasn’t too tight.

 

 The puma’s eyes gleamed in the weak light from above. It looked at him curiously, head tilting and whiskers twitching. Mairon set down his flashlight and began to pack up his supplies. “At least I took care of your injuries. That wire was nasty stuff, really. I wonder how you got tangled in it.” He was speaking mostly to himself, to keep himself company.

 

 “I stumbled into it near the fences.” The voice was a low rumble, ancient and powerful. Mairon jumped back in surprise, knocking the flashlight over and sending the beam of light fluttering wildly over the cracked stone walls of the cellar. 

 

 He grabbed the light and barely avoided shining it into the puma’s eyes in his scramble. “You are fae.” He spoke slowly, not letting his shock seep into his voice. 

 

 Those harvest-moon eyes sparkled with amusement and an intelligence that was surely not animal. “Indeed I am. You are perceptive for a mortal.” It regarded its cleaned wounds and the scarf wrapped around its damaged paw. “Kind too. Many would have left me to my fate. Moving with that foul metal searing into me was too difficult. I do believe I could have wasted away had you not freed me.”

 

 Mairon pieced it together. “The burns.” He spoke aloud. “That wire was iron, wasn’t it?” The puma nodded. “Indeed. Cleverly concealed in the weeds and grasses when I became ensnared. I came into this place for shelter and cast out for aid.” A twitch of the long whiskers. “What may I call you by?”

 

 “Mairon.” He introduced himself simply, dipping his head as was customary for the fae when greeting each other. The puma returned the gesture, dipping the massive head in a smooth motion. “I go by many names, but you may address me as Tevildo.” 

 

 “Tevildo.” Mairon repeated. The name was familiar but he could not place it. “How do you think we’re going to get out of here?” He shone the beam of the flashlight around the basement, but the only means of ascent was a half-rotted ladder dangling limpy from one wall beneath a heavy-looking trapdoor.

 

Tevildo raised his head and inhaled deeply, mouth opening slightly to draw scents in. “I believe there is an escape over there.” He nodded towards a stack of debris near the far wall. Mairon peered at it. “How can you be sure?” He asked. 

 

 “I smell fresh air, a breeze from outside.” Tevildo stood gingerly, growling low in his throat at the pain in his injured paw. Mairon quickly gathered up his supplies and packed them away, then shouldered his bag and stood beside the puma. 

 

 “I’ll move the wood.” Mairon leaned to haul the tumbled remnants of the furniture--a desk and several shelves. He carefully avoided the splinters and rusted nails jutting from the debris pile. With a soft noise of effort, he tossed it aside, revealing a dark tunnel stretching away into the earth and held up by wooden supporting beams.

 

 “I don’t trust that to hold up.” Mairon frowned. Tevildo padded over to him and sniffed cautiously at the draft coming from the tunnel. “We don’t have a choice. Trust me as I trusted you, Mairon.”

 

 Mairon laid his palm on one of Tevildo’s shoulders as the big cat pressed onwards into the darkness. He clutched the flashlight in his free hand, brushing past the roots dangling down and avoiding touching the muddy walls. He didn’t trust them to hold, didn’t trust the precariously packed soil to not tumble down and entomb him alive beneath the old farm.

 

 They walked on for what felt like ages through the earth, the only sound their soft footsteps and mingled breaths. The flashlight was cold in Mairon’s hand, in contrast to Tevildo’s warm fur beneath his other palm. The tunnels seemed to twist in an endless maze, contracting in and closing around the duo, but Mairon knew his eyes were not to be trusted despite the hitch in his breath and the fear in his heart. A fae had a far better chance of navigating the tunnels and finding the way out alive.

 

 Mairon almost doubted Tevildo’s true motives, but he knew the nature of the big cat’s species. Fae were loyal and oath-driven. They returned each favor they received in kind. It was a basic law of their kind.

 

 Finally, they rounded a bend and dazzling sunlight sparkled in through gaps in a half-boarded-over exit. Mairon looked to Tevildo in silent question. When he nodded, Mairon raised his foot and snapped it sideways into the moldering boards. They shuddered. He kicked twice more, flinching as soil rained down from the ceiling, but on the third hit they toppled outwards. 

 

 Mairon immediately hurried out onto the hillside, the blue and violet wildflowers and vivid green grass bobbing in the fresh breeze as he exhaled in relief. He clicked off the flashlight and stowed it in the loop of his belt.

 

 Tevildo padded out after him and stretched gingerly, shaking earth from his pelt. “It is good to be free again. Thank you, Mairon.” He bowed low to the human. Mairon’s eyes widened as something in his mind clicked and he remembered where he had heard the name Tevildo.  _ A capricious but benevolent spirit who has roamed the mountains for years beyond count. And also-- _

 

 “You’re the Prince of Cats.” He finished his thought aloud, unable to keep the awe out of his voice. Tevildo’s whiskers twitched in amusement, and he purred. “I am. Clever human. I saw the recognition in your eyes when I first told you this name.”

 

 “I am honored to have made your acquaintance.” Mairon kept his speech aloof and straightened his posture.  _ He’s fae nobility, so legendary he made his way into Appalachian folklore. I can’t seem uncultured. _

 

 “You do not need to put up a pretense of formality for me, Mairon. I owe you my life, after all. Among my people, good deeds do not go forgotten.” Tevildo sat back in the grass of the hillside, pelt a soft brindle in the light of the setting sun, his black-tipped tail curled neatly around the plate-sized paws. “If ever you have need, Mairon, call for me. I or one of my subjects will come to your aid.” 

 

 “I’m honored. Thank you for helping me escape that place.” Mairon grinned at him. Tevildo flicked one ear idly. “It was only fair.” He rose to his paws. “I should be off. My people will be awaiting my return. Remember, call for me if the need arises.”

 

 Mairon hardly had time to nod before Tevildo vanished into the tall grasses. Heartbeats later, it was as though he had never existed at all.

 

  Mairon stared at the spot where he had vanished, already looking perfectly undisturbed once more. A gust of cold wind tossed the trees lining the meadow. Mairon noticed the long shadows cast across the ground and peered at the setting sun. With a jolt, he realized how close night was.

 

 Mairon completed the hike back in half the time, rushing through the forests and around the mountain, back down to the road. By the time he stepped out onto the concrete, the sun had all but vanished. He hurried along the side of the road to keep out of the shadowy woods, following it around the bend and back into civilization.

 

 By dark, he was safely slipping back up the chimney and into the house. He was covered in cobwebs, mud, and dust. And yet he was elated, despite the bruises from his fall into the cellar and the scratches on his arms from god knew where. 

 

 He set down his pack and stepped into the bathroom, reaching out to flick on the lights. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, loose strands of red hair sticking to his flushed face with sweat and thin red marks on his bare arms, clothes stained with dirt. But his eyes shone brightly and he was grinning with excitement at the identity of the one he had rescued. 

 

 He had grown up hearing stories of Tevildo’s deeds and adventures; they were common childhood fairy tales for his town. Like all legends, Mairon had long suspected they held a grain of truth. But he had never expected to meet face-to-face with Tevildo himself.

 

  Mairon untied his bun, letting his hair cascade down his back. It was a tangled mess, but his enthusiasm only heightened at his next thought.

 

_ I can’t wait to tell Melkor about this. _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I couldn't resist including Tevildo. He already sounds like something out of Appalachian folklore as he is canon.


	6. Moonlit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mairon learns of a plan. Melkor makes an offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments give me life and motivation

  A breeze threatened to snatch the syllabus from Mairon's hands as he made his way past the row of storefronts. His flannel afforded minimal protection from the cold. The sky was overcast, fog hovering at the tops of the peaks, looking to be only heartbeats from rolling down the slopes.

 

 Folding the papers and awkwardly shoving them into the breast pocket of his flannel, he braced himself against the wind and continued on, heedless of the dead leaves, litter, and stranger objects being blown around his feet.

 

 Another person came into view in the park across the street, walking close to the bushes and looking furtive. He recognized Ilmarë and raised his hand fo wave, mouth opening to call to her, but she held a finger to her lips. Her eyes were wide and almost frightened.

 

 Mairon frowned as she stopped beside a bench, standing just off the main path. She beckoned to him with small motions, glancing around wildly.

 

 Checking quickly for approaching traffic and seeing none, Mairon darted across the road, pushed open the wrought iron gate, and joined her beside the bench. Ilmarë’s eyes were wide and she looked worried, fiddling with the strap of her shoulder bag. 

 

 “What's wrong?” He asked, leaning close and speaking softly. Ilmarë shot one more nervous look at the park, then turned back to him. 

 

 “I was looking for you, actually. My parents are searching for me, and…” She grabbed his hand as the sound of approaching footsteps became audible. Her knuckles whitened.

 

 “Did they do something?” Mairon asked. Ilmarë tugged him off the path, crouching in a row of thick bushes with waxy green leaves. She nodded absently, peering out into the path as the unknown person drew closer.

 

“Is someone following you?” Mairon hissed urgently. She didn’t respond, shrinking into the shadows and craning her neck to look out at the empty park.

 

 For a few tense moments, they waited. Mairon had started to scan their surroundings for the quickest way out when her grip on his hand relaxed and she stepped out towards the path. Mairon trailed behind. “Ilmarë? What--”

 

 She ignored him, waving to the woman hurrying down the sidewalk. Mairon recognized Arien, who was visibly relieved to see her friends. Arien quickly jogged towards them, crossing the street and pushing through the rusted iron gate into the park. She met them in the shadows beside the bushes. Her dyed-red hair rippled softly with the slight breeze, tied back at the base of her neck.

 

 “Mairon? What are you doing here?” She asked. He shot her a curious look. “I could ask the same of you. I'm coming back from class.”

 

 “Ilmarë asked me to meet her at the park. Why were you two hiding?” She half-grinned. “I thought I was the troublemaker.”

 

 Ilmarë looked at her with sad eyes, and she immediately looked far more serious. She draped an arm over Ilmarë’s slender shoulders. “What's wrong?”

 

 Mairon took a half-step away. “Should I go?” Ilmarë wordlessly shook her head, dipping her chin slightly. “No. This was originally only for Arien, but you--you can hear too.”

 

 She took a deep breath and tensed, becoming very interested in her sneakers. “I came out to my parents.” 

 

 Mairon frowned. “I'm guessing they... didn't take it well.” Arien’s jaw clenched, and she pulled Ilmarë closer. “Oh, Ilmarë.” She whispered, eyes too bright.

 

 “I can't stay with them.” Her voice overflowed with frustration. Mairon fidgeted, unsure of how to respond. “Do you have somewhere to go?” She plucked at the thin straps of her bag. “I was hoping to stay with you?” She looked up at Arien hopefully.

 

 “As long as my parents don't find out about us.” Arien rested her chin on Ilmarë’s forehead. Mairon blinked. “You two are together?” He asked, surprise creeping into his voice. 

 

 Arien tilted her head, arms wrapping around Ilmarë protectively. “Since before we finished high school. You're the first to know.” She explained softly. 

 

 “You know, you could probably stay at my house.” Mairon offered without a second thought. “Arien, you too, if you need--”

 

 Arien shook her head. “As long as no one finds out within a week, I've got a place to stay. Ilmarë will be safe with me.”

 

 “What’s happening next week?” Mairon asked. Ilmarë frowned and fixed him with a stern glare. Arien’s eyes widened and she pressed her lips together in a thin line, like she'd said something without meaning to.

 

 “You shouldn't--” Arien began, but Ilmarë shook her head in a minute motion. Mairon stepped back. “Should I go?” He turned away, feeling as though he was intruding on something private.

 

 “No, stay.” Ilmarë said. She shot Arien a meaningful glance, gaze sharp yet gentle. “He can know. It's alright.” She turned to Mairon and laid her hand on his shoulder. “Arien and I are leaving next week.”

 

 Mairon couldn't restrain his gasp. “You're leaving? Where to? Do you have a plan? Do you have somewhere to stay?” He frowned, worry etched into every line of his face.

 

 Ilmarë smiled sadly. “One of my cousins agreed to let us live with her in the city. She can come and get us, but only next week. We'll be a good distance away from this place. There's work for us there. We'll save up enough for a proper college, an apartment of our own. We can have a  _ life _ , Mairon, a life where our love will be accepted.” She paused, patting his arm. “We've planned this. I've wanted it since I was fifteen, Mairon.”

 

 “I understand.” He said, and he realized that he  _ did _ , he wanted to be away from the little town where the locals turned away from anything outside their norm and turned a blind eye to the wonders surrounding their pocket of the world. 

 

 “But you know the wilderness is dangerous. You're going to be alone on the road, presumably at night.” Mairon lowered his voice. “I think we both know what's out there when it gets dark.”

 

 Arien nodded solemnly. “We do. It's a risk we have to take. You of all people should understand, Mairon.” 

 

 Ilmarë reached for her hand, meshing their fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Please don't try to stop us.” She said, almost pleadingly. There was a glint of danger in her eyes, something that told him he'd regret holding them back.

 

 “I would never. But can I do anything to make it easier?” He almost-whispered, trying to decipher the wild tangle of emotions in their expressions. A few tense seconds passed before Arien hesitantly shook her head.

 

 “I don't think so. It hurts to leave, I'll admit that much, but it's going to be so much better when we're free. As for making it safer…” She glanced to Ilmarë, and when she was met with a nod, she took a breath and continued. 

 

“You seem to know how to survive the wilds. We're going to have to hike to a point where we can be picked up by her cousin, and we have to go at night. Normally I would never, but I need this.”

 

 He nodded slowly. “I understand. I think I can help. Can I--” A thought struck him, and he quickly glanced at the position of the sun, shining through a cloudless patch in the sky.  _ Mid afternoon _ . 

 

“Can I get back to you tonight or tomorrow?” He asked, turning back to them and blinking from the brightness of the light. “There's some things I need to get into order. I think I can work out ways to make it less dangerous for us all.”

 

 “You're not planning on--” Arien looked started. Mairon held up his hand. “Just walking you to the pickup point. It'll be less dangerous with three of us along.”

 

 Arien glanced at Ilmarë, who gave her a reassuring smile. “We can trust him, my love. Mairon knows the Appalachians.” She leaned in and half-whispered to Arien. Mairon caught the words, hearing sharp due to his years of adventuring. 

 

 “There are those who say he is part fae, that the mountains chose him. It would be best to trust him in these matters.” 

 

 Mairon's eyes widened despite himself. The last time he'd heard of those particular rumors circulating was several years ago, during his last year attending the tiny brick high school on the outskirts of town. 

 

 The blizzards had been heavy that year, and creatures obscured by the snow had stalked the streets freely, howls mingling with the wind and eyes gleaming in the darkness beyond flimsy windows. Some of the beasts had towered far above the height of a man, while others had flitted through the snow low to the ground, seemingly (or perhaps quite literally) incorporeal. 

 

 The creatures had bent to the will of none but Mairon. He keenly remembered facing a wolf-like creature he could hardly see, looming out of the wall of wind and blinding snow before him. Behind him had stood Curumo, Ilmarë, and several others whose names he could not remember. He had been the only barrier between them and the creature of the storm, but he had never felt fear. 

 

 In the end, only a few stern words and an unwavering stare had turned the beast back, sent it off into the snow and wind of the Appalachians. Several lives were saved, and in the process Mairon's reputation as something not quite human was cemented. 

 

 Mairon realized too late that Ilmarë had spoken to him and he hadn't registered a single word. Briefly shaking his head, he leaned closer. “What?”

 

 She sighed. “I was asking if you'd really be okay helping us.”

 

 “Of course. I have somewhere to be right now, but I'll text you about it later.” Mairon adjusted his bag. The usual supplies for ventures into the mountains weighed heavy, concealed below the mundane books and sheafs of notes. 

 

 “Alright. I'll be at Arien's house if you need me.” Ilmarë waved as she walked off hand in hand with her girlfriend. Mairon nodded to them before walking rapidly to the gate, all but breaking into a jog as he made his way through town. He was running late to his meeting with Melkor, and he may never get another chance to speak with him.

 

 

~~~

 

 

 By the time he was nearing the glade with the waterfall, he was fully out of breath. His lungs ached in the chilly air, but he kept onward, moving lightly over logs and brush and between the trees. As the sound of roaring water grew louder and louder, he slowed his pace to a brisk walk, gasping to catch his breath in the thin, crisp air.

 

 Pausing on the edge of the trees to tie his hair back into a ponytail, he scanned the rocky clearing for Melkor. Worry gnawed at him, he had arrived late. The fae were notoriously finicky beings. 

 

 Disappointing Melkor was the last thing he wanted; though, he suddenly realized, not because he was afraid of him. With any other fae, Mairon would be frightened for his life if he let them down. But with Melkor...he simply didn't want to see him upset. 

 

 Mairon's interactions with all fae had always been tinged by fear, fear of incurring their wrath, of accidentally selling his soul or gambling away his identity, fear of winding up cursed, stolen away, dead, or worse. But with Melkor, those fears were simply nonexistent. 

 

 He noticed movement on the rocks beside the waterfall and a dark shape stepped into view, passing through the dappled sunlight streaming through clear patches in the thick clouds above. Recognizing Melkor, he smiled broadly and stepped into the clearing. He clambered onto a boulder to be seen more clearly, lichen rough beneath his palms as he sat down.

 

 “Melkor!” He called, raising one hand in greeting. The fae turned, spotting him, and regarded him for a few moments before springing nimbly across the rocks jutting from the clear mountain stream. He made his way up the hillside to Mairon's perch and hauled himself up beside the human, cloak fluttering around him.

 

 “Sorry I'm late.” Mairon apologized. Melkor shook his head. “I arrived late as well. Do not apologize.” 

 

 “Don't you live out here though?” Mairon asked, surveying the clearing for any signs of a dwelling place. Again Melkor shook his head, dark hair rippling over the iridescent black cloak. “Not beside the waterfall. I live further down the mountain, by the cascade.” He pointed out at the stream tumbling out of the clearing and flowing down the slopes in a whirlwind of white froth. “Down that way.”

 

 “I've been there before a few years back. I didn't find any kind of house though.” Mairon picked idly at the gray-green lichen growing over the boulder. Melkor raised an eyebrow. “You would not have seen it if your sight was not yet clear enough.”

 

 Mairon ran his fingers over the lichen and stretched out his legs, dangling them over the edge of the boulder into empty space. “I have the maps I drew somewhere.”

 

 Melkor's ears swiveled towards him, perking up. “You mapped the mountains?” He asked, voice rumbling in his chest. Mairon nodded. “I've been doing it for years. It's become something of a hobby.” He paused to tuck a few stray wisps of red hair behind his ear. “I have to update them pretty often though.”

 

“These maps of yours sound interesting.” Melkor stared at a bird circling high above as he spoke, auburn against the silver-gray dome of the sky. “I never used maps.” 

 

 “What did you do instead? Getting around out here isn't exactly easy, not even for all the fae I've met.” Mairon asked, looking curiously at him.

 

 “I learned to stop getting lost.” Melkor said simply. A thought seemed to strike him, and he met Mairon's eyes, piercing gaze fixed on him. “What other fae have you met, Mairon?” 

 

 He grinned excitedly. “Many over the years, but yesterday I met Tevildo.” 

 

 Melkor's eyes widened. “Tevildo, Prince of Cats?” He asked, leaning forward in interest. Mairon nodded. “He was trapped in iron wire. I freed him. I think he took a liking to me.” 

 

 Melkor looked both awed and amused. “He's like that. Gets attached to everyone who's kind. He's got a soft spot for humans especially. I'm surprised you met him, though. He is incredibly difficult to locate, even for other fae.”

 

 “I wasn't even out looking for him.” Mairon shrugged. “Well, I technically was, I felt his distress from being trapped. But I didn't know it was him at the time.” 

 

 “I have said this before, but you are... _ very _ in tune with the ways of the children of the Appalachians.” Melkor’s blackened fingers curled against the rock, running over the gray surface absently. 

 

 “I've been told that. My own twin brother thinks I'm part fae. Come to think of it, I'm pretty sure most of the town has heard that rumor by now. It's going around again.” Mairon spoke as he watched a small brown lizard dart across the rock, pausing every now and again to look for bugs in little crevices. Its blue tail gleamed against the dull boulder.

 

 “I take it that these rumors are less than complimentary.” Melkor remarked. Mairon nodded wordlessly and continued watching the lizard. Melkor noticed it too. He extended one hand and gently scooped it up, letting it nestle into his palm. Mairon smiled at it and and cautiously ran one finger down the scaly back. It seemed to react almost favorably, though it was difficult to tell with reptiles.

 

 They sat in companionable silence for a while, nothing but the rushing wind and nearby birdsongs filling the silence. Melkor let the lizard perch on his hand for a time until it scrambled off after some unseen insect and disappeared into a crevice running along the side of the rock.

 

 Finally, Mairon spoke. “I need your help with something.” Melkor took a few seconds to reply, as though coming out of a trance. “Yes?” 

 

 “Two of my friends are leaving town. They need to travel through the forest by night to get to where they'll be picked up.” He explained. “It's very important to them that they escape. We all know how dangerous it is out here. I was wondering if you could help them?” 

 

 Melkor looked nervous, ears flattening closer to his skull. “When are you planning on this?” 

 

“Next week. Probably about six or seven days from now.” Mairon explained. Alarm flared in Melkor's eyes. “Those are the nights of the full moon. I would advise-- _ strongly _ advise--against this.” 

 

 Mairon laid a hand cautiously on his shoulder, feeling the feathers of the cloak ruffle beneath his hand. “I know. I would too. But they have to go then. Can I do anything to make them safer?”

 

 Melkor hesitated, frowning. “Yes. There are some spells and rituals that could aid you. I would doubt the ability of any other human to learn or hope to control such powers, but you…” His ears perked up slightly. “You I could teach.”

 

 “You'll show me how?” Mairon was interested, but a part of him was still uncertain. “I've dabbled in witchcraft and folk magic before. It never worked right.” 

 

 “Then you did not have the proper tutor.” Melkor sounded utterly matter-of-fact, as though sharing fae magic with humans was something he did on a daily basis. 

 

 “What I can teach you will be much stronger than any folk magic learnable by the average member of your kind. I can teach you the ancient rites, Mairon.” Melkor offered, a slight smile appearing on the pale lips. “I cannot guarantee complete safety of passage for your friends, but I will do everything in my power to help.”

 

 “I want to learn with you.” Mairon couldn't keep the intrigue out of his voice. He had tried and failed to learn magic of many sorts since he was young. The chance to be taught by one who truly understood the Appalachians was too good to pass up.

 

 Melkor tilted his head, almost birdlike. “If we work quickly, you should be able to perform basic shielding charms seven days from now. I will cast a stronger spell of warding on you and your friends during your journey through the forests.”

 

He nodded thoughtfully. “What's the first thing I need to know?” He asked, the wind ruffling his ponytail.

 

 “The first lesson you must learn is that magic is not freely given.” Melkor paused for a moment, staring into the distance, before continuing as normal. “It flows through the mountains and trees and water and air. It is not ours to give or take, merely to borrow or channel, and only then with the proper gifts to trade for it.” He explained.

 

 “Each spell requires different components or rituals to trade for the use of the energy inherent to the mountains. Think of it as a persuasion. You must prove to the mountains that you are worthy of borrowing their power.” Melkor seemed to come alive as he talked, eyes shimmering with joy. He visibly relaxed, hair and cloak ruffled by the chilly wind as he turned to face Mairon properly. 

 

 Mairon found himself enraptured by Melkor as he spoke. He was something between human and fae. The horns curling from his head were all animal and his delicate, sharp features were clearly fae, but his eyes were human despite the unusual blue glow to them. There was humanity and empathy there beyond what Mairon usually saw in the eyes of the fae.

 

 “So, will you meet me at my home tomorrow, Mairon? I will have the necessary supplies prepared by then.” He looked almost...hopeful? He grinned at Mairon, but there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes. With a pang, Mairon recognized it.  _ He's afraid of rejection. _

 

 “Of course. I'll be there tomorrow morning.” Mairon watched relief fill his eyes and his ears perk happily. “Some directions would help, though.”

 

  Melkor nodded towards the stream. “Follow the water until you reach an oak with two trunks. If you still cannot see past the glamorie, step into the fairy ring beneath the grove of pines. That should allow you to push aside the veil, so to speak.”

 

 “I will.” Mairon dipped his head. Melkor gestured out at the clearing. “I also perform magics here sometimes. The meadow down below is wonderful for rituals.” He gestured down the slope at the alpine meadow, loosely littered with boulders. The waterfall roared down the bare rock face from the peaks above, crashing into the rocky pools and streaming away in bubbling white foam.

 

 “It's beautiful.” Mairon breathed. He stood and clambered down from the boulder, beginning to pick his way down the hill to the water.

 

 Melkor trailed behind, moving silently behind Mairon over the grass and stones. They crossed the meadow, flowers in bright magentas and cornflower blue brushing against their legs.

 

 The pair reached the pool, standing in the misty spray of the waterfall. Small currents formed into eddies around the jagged rocks. The ground close to the pool was dense-packed sand that clung wetly to Mairon's boots. Pebbles crunched underfoot as he drew close to the edge and looked down, kneeling beside the clear water. Several small fish darted out of view, into the shadows. Their silver bodies flashed like coins beneath the glittering surface of the water.

 

 “Careful, Mairon. Don't fall in.” Melkor warned. He nodded his acknowledgement, idly undoing his ponytail as he fixed his gaze on a leaf swirling around in an eddy.

 

  Amusement crept into Melkor's voice. “I do not wish to go into the water after you again.” 

 

 Mairon laughed lightly and stood, turning to face Melkor. The light streaming through the breaks in the clouds dappled across the pool, sparkling in the spray and illuminating honey gold patches on the ground.

 

 Melkor's eyes widened slightly. “Your hair is like a flame.” He remarked, transfixed by the way the sun illuminated Mairon's red hair with golden light. It formed a crimson halo around his head, tumbling down to his mid-back. The loose strands around the edge shone pure gold.

 

 Mairon felt a hot blush creeping onto his face. “Oh, t-thank you.” He said lamely, his stutter causing his face to turn darker red beneath the freckles.

 

 Cloak gleaming with blue and green and purple, Melkor turned to gaze into the clouded sky. “Do you have one of your maps with you?” He asked.

 

 “Yeah.” Mairon took off his backpack and shoved aside the notebooks impatiently. Digging through his supplies, he quickly came up with a rolled-up map tied off with twine.

 

 “Here. This is recent.” He zipped and shouldered his bag, neatly undid the twine,  and unrolled the paper. Melkor stepped up behind him and peered over his shoulder at the map. 

 

 Acute awareness of how close Melkor was standing made Mairon's heart beat ever so slightly faster. Impatiently brushing it off, he ran his thumb over to their current location. “Here's the waterfall. Down on that edge is my town. The squonk dens are over here.” 

 

 “This is a work of art.” Melkor sounded genuinely impressed. “Show me how one navigates with this. Take me to…” He trailed off, eyes scanning the map, before he tapped his index finger against a point on the grid. “Here.” 

 

 Mairon smiled. “Can do. Follow me.” He set off into the trees, and though he didn't look back, he knew Melkor was close behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heck yeah meeting cute boys in the forest and seducing them with cartography


	7. Candlelight and Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mairon has his first lesson in magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of short but it would've gotten way too long if I hadn't cut the chapter where I did. The next part should be coming once my finals are over!

 Lichen crumbled beneath Marion’s fingers as he braced one palm on the trunk of a tree, propelling himself the last few feet up the hillock. Out of breath, he paused and looked around. The slope on the other side was far gentler, dipping down to a fallen log draped in fuzzy green moss. A bright red cardinal fluttered up from a grove of golden-brown mushrooms, wings flashing brightly as it sailed into the sky.

 

 A tree with a forked trunk and crimson leaves seemed to leap out of the drab foliage surrounding it. Mairon frowned a little at the unusually bright hue. It was a bit too red, even for the spectacular autumns of the Appalachians. The clay around its base seemed damp, a harsh contrast to the otherwise powdery soil. 

 

 He regarded it with curiosity, but ultimately decided to ignore it. Such things were best left unquestioned.

 

 He stepped up to the tree and peered around it, looking for any sign of Melkor's home. The forest was empty but for the usual trees and shrubbery. Mairon frowned.

 

_ He said to step through the fairy ring close to a pine. _ Mairon turned to look for the distinctive circle of mushrooms, but in the process a flash of light caught his eye. He turned again, craning his neck in an attempt to find it once more. Another glimmer of light. He zeroed in on the gap between the two trunks.

 

 There, in the gap between the knotted boles, he noticed a two-story cabin. The windows were slightly warped with age, but golden firelight shone from within. Plants grew in neat rows within a plain wooden fence. A cobblestone path ran down from the porch.

 

 He experimentally looked around the trunk instead of through it, and the image instantly vanished. His frown deepened when he shifted back in place and the cabin slid into view once more.

 

 Seeing no other option, Mairon braced one boot on a lump in the bark and hoisted himself up to the place where the trunks split. He scrambled through the narrow gap, hips brushing against the branches and scraping loose bark off the tree. Something shimmered and rippled around him, like a fine mist. His spine tingled.

 

 He dropped down heavily on the other side, narrowly missing a split-log fence. Leaves crunched beneath his feet as he straightened his posture and looked around.

 

 A log cabin stood before him, with an orderly garden and a stone path leading down to a well. A small stream, diverted from the main creek, bubbled loudly in the background, splashing over rocks as it flowed through the yard.

 

 “Melkor?” Mairon called, almost hesitant. He was strangely nervous, heart beating just a little too fast at the prospect of seeing him again. The yard and house were nothing like what he'd expected--he had been half-anticipating some sort of cave or grotto, not something that could pass as a hunter's cabin. 

 

 Something moved in the shadows beneath a pine, and Melkor appeared. His usual cloak had been discarded for simpler clothes. Mairon blinked at the unexpected change. The iridescent feathers had become synonymous with the fae, and it was jarring to see him in drab greens and grays.  

 

 “Greetings, Mairon. Did you make it out here alright?” He asked, regarding him with a slightly birdlike tilt of his head. Mairon couldn't help but smile at the oddly endearing gesture. 

 

 “Yes, though getting past your glamorie was a little...complicated.” Mairon looked around the clearing as he talked. It was far neater than he'd imagined, especially given Melkor's laid back demeanor. He gestured vaguely at the cabin. “Did you build this yourself?” 

 

 “No.” Melkor chuckled a little as he started towards the porch. “Come sit with me. We can get started on your lessons.” 

 

 Mairon followed him up the wooden stairs, slats creaking ever so slightly beneath his feet. The porch was shaded by a roof suspended by slender beams rising from the railing. A rippled glass table sat near wicker chairs. Plants in hanging pots dangled from the edge of the roof, ferns spilling over the sides and little purple flowers bright against the green foliage. 

 

 “What are we doing first?” Mairon sat beside Melkor. He gestured to the candles on the table, fat cylinders of white and red wax. “I am going to teach you how to light these with only the use of your mind.” 

 

 “Oh?” Mairon set his bag down on the porch and rested his forearms on the table. “How does that work?”

 

 “Let me get you the necessary component. Wait here.” Melkor opened the heavy door and stepped inside. Mairon caught a glimpse of a well-furnished, cozy foyer and living room before the door swung shut.

 

 He sat alone for a brief time, accompanied only by the squirrels quarreling in a nearby tree and the birdsong in the surrounding forest. A suncatcher made of colored glass swayed lightly with the breeze. 

 

 The late-afternoon sunlight streaming down through the trees was warm. Mairon watched the squirrels chitter angrily and chase each other around their tree, bushy tails flicking almost indignantly. 

 

 His brow furrowed as he was struck by a realization. Something was missing, a familiar sensation somewhere in his gut was simply...gone.

 

 He frowned as he tried to deduce what it was. There seemed to be a gap where a certain awareness should be, like a sense he didn't know he possessed until it had stopped giving him feedback.

 

 As his eyes fell upon a sigil neatly etched onto a tree just outside the fenceline, it clicked into place. “Protective wards, hm?” He mused aloud, recognizing the delicate curve of the symbol. 

 

 It made sense now. The part of him reserved for detecting danger--usually so active and tense--simply had no use in a place where he was truly safe.

 

 He smiled. It was surprisingly relaxing to be relieved of any danger necessary for him to detect. 

 

 The door opened once more, and Melkor appeared with a small leather pouch in one large hand. The scent of burning cedar issued from inside, presumably from the fireplace beside the low wooden table and worn couch.

 

 Opening the pouch with a tug to the drawstring, Melkor fished out a small piece of reddish moss and pressed it into his hand. “This is your offering to the mountains. Since this spell is simple, it will not take much.” Mairon curled his fingers around it. “And what next?”

 

“Pick a candle and focus on it. Think of what you want to happen. In your case, you simply want it to light.” A pause. A bird warbled in the background. Mairon stared at the wick so hard his eyes crossed, knuckles whitening around the moss.

 

 Melkor laid a hand on his shoulder, making him jump. “Not like that. Close your eyes. Focus with your mind, not your sight.” 

 

 “Right.” He exhaled, squeezing his eyes shut. He tentatively extended his mind, unused to doing so without something else reaching out to him first. 

 

 Fumblingly and almost embarrassingly slowly, he found the wick. It was hardly detectable, but as Mairon focused harder, more and more shapes seemed to appear from the darkness. While he couldn't see them, he knew they were there; a ceramic pot beside the stairs, a bench on the other side of the porch, tangled vines draped over the railing.

 

 “I found it.” He muttered, lips barely moving. He felt Melkor shift in his seat. “Good. Now feel around for the energy. It's there, I promise. Find it and welcome it to you.”

 

 Mairon frowned, concentration lapsing. He swore and fumbled for the wick again, eyes closed tightly and fists clenching. Again Melkor touched his shoulder, charred fingers brushing lightly over his jacket.

 

 “Keep calm, Mairon. I know you can do this. You could pick up on Tevildo’s emotions, remember? Think back to how you managed that.” 

 

 “He was reaching out to me, I can't--” Mairon sighed in frustration, opening his eyes. Melkor's ears perked up. “Try thinking of yourself as a conduit, not a controller. You do not create or master this magic, you are merely letting it flow through you.”

 

 Mairon stretched his arms above his head, circling his shoulders back in an effort to relax, before refocusing himself on the wick. He found it more easily this time.

 

 As he let the tension drain from him, a strange sensation rose in his gut. It was inexplicable, but felt eerily close to what he had experienced when following Tevildo's signal. The tug was absent, replaced by magic bubbling up and swelling inside him.

 

He exhaled softly as he sent it swirling towards the candle. The moss heated up in his hand, a slight warmth against his palm. He curled his fingers in on it, feeling it crackle.

 

Heat rose in his chest and spread down his arms. His shoulders tensed and he jerked back, feeling his core temperature drop once more. The moss cooled down in an instant. 

 

“Heat is normal.” Melkor said calmly, as though reading his mind. “You are trying to set an object alight, Mairon.” 

 

 “I'll give it another shot.” Mairon tried to hide the nervousness that he knew was creeping into his voice. Messing up magic was a risky thing. He would prefer to get through the day with minimum damage.

 

 “Do not tense up. Please, Mairon, relax. The magic will flow more easily if you act like it belongs with you, like you were meant for this.” Melkor's presence was strangely reassuring. “You  _ can _ do this, Mairon.” 

 

 Another exhale. Another surge of warmth, but this time Mairon held onto the current. The moss heated up and crackled, popping slightly, until Mairon was sure it would burst into flame.

 

The tug grew sharper, until it was too strong to bear, and suddenly it cut off. Mairon opened his eyes hesitantly.

 

 The candle glowed, a dancing flame lit at the wick. The moss had been reduced to a smear of black ash in Mairon's hand.

 

 His eyes widened, but then he smiled at his handiwork. “Hey, look at that!” He grinned, watching the candlelight flicker amongst the afternoon shadows cast across the porch.

 

 “You learn quickly.” Melkor smiled, eyes warm and encouraging. “You are quite certain you're not fae? A human managing to channel magic accurately after so little practice is almost unheard of.”

 

 “I'm pretty sure I'm not.” Mairon shrugged. “It would mean my twin is also fae, and he's definitely human.”

 

 “Why? What's he like?” Melkor blinked. Mairon smiled grimly. “He's the perfect opposite of me. The people at home like him. He doesn't understand any of this. He never would.” 

 

 “I see.” A pause. “I am sorry, Mairon. Not fitting into your home must be difficult.” He looked distant, staring out into the yard. Movement by the pines caught Mairon's eye.

 

 “Is that a squonk?” He asked, watching it pick its way delicately across the gravel path. Little feet crunched on the rocks as it made its way towards the porch.

 

 Melkor smiled, picking idly at a hardened drop of wax on the base of the candle holder. “Yes. She was caught in a trap close to your town. I rescued her. She'll probably be ready to return to her burrow soon.” 

 

 “You do this often?” Mairon smiled lopsidedly as the squonk lowered her snout into the creek, delicately drinking with small laps of a pink tongue. 

 

“Yes. I frequently find creatures who have been injured in the forest. They are all welcome to stay here for a time.” Melkor continued to peel the wax from the heavy candle holder, reflection wavering in the polished golden base. 

 

 “My friend Thuri does the same thing. She works at a clinic, and sometimes she treats creatures of the Appalachians. She's good at keeping it hushed up.” Mairon explained, watching the squonk lean further into the little creek. Water bubbled around her spindly legs.

 

 “We should get back to our lesson.” Melkor said. He extinguished the candle with a small gesture, pointing idly at it. “Can you relight that for me, Mairon?”

 

 With a sigh of contentment, he turned back to the candle. The thin wisp of smoke trailing from the wick was caught by a light breeze that ruffled the ferns trailing from their ceramic pots. Sunlight glinted dimly through the leaves and onto the table, sparkling off the rippled glass. 

 

Somehow, it already felt like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments give me life <3


	8. Before The Clouds Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mairon helps Melkor perform a ritual. The darker side of the Appalachians makes itself apparent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *crawls out of the woodworks one (1) month after the last fic update* 
> 
> Classes are out for the summer and my internships haven't started yet so I've got extra time to write! This chapter is like...twice as long as usual so hopefully that'll make up for my absence. 
> 
> (Also there's some minor blood/gore stuff in this chapter, just a heads-up if you're sensitive to that)

****

Sunlight glinted off the raven's glossy feathers as it caught a draft, circling past Mairon and nearly clipping his head with one outstretched wing. He blinked in surprise and stepped back, shifting his weight on the rock. The land only a few feet before him fell away, a valley visible far below.

 

 “Focus, Mairon. Remember your task.” Melkor spoke quietly from his place at the base of the rock. He turned and shot him a mock-offended look. “Tell your ravens not to fly in my face, then we'll see.”

 

 “That's not one of mine.” Melkor countered, watching the bird soar higher into the sky, dark against the puffy white clouds. Mairon squinted up at it. “How can you tell?”

 

 Melkor shrugged. “I simply can.” He walked up to stand beside him. “Do you need help?” 

 

 “No, let me try again.” Mairon clenched his hand around the chunk of rock he held, fingers curling around the cold surface. Melkor leaned a little closer. “Remember, you have to--”

 

 “I know, I know, find the strongest upwelling of magic I can. Tap into the ley lines and have them lead us to your ritual circle.” Mairon repeated the instructions Melkor had given him when they'd first met up that morning.

 

 The heat rose in his gut once more, flowing into his arm, down to his hand. The rock began to warm steadily. Mairon's lips parted in a silent gasp as he let it heat to nearly uncomfortable levels. He screwed his eyes tighter shut. Just when he felt sure he would be burned, it plateaued and faded to a tolerable simmer. 

 

 He uncurled his fingers carefully, feeling the weight lifting itself from his palm. Opening his eyes a slit, he saw the rock bobbing slightly with the currents of the air, levitating effortlessly before him. A shimmer seemed to form around it, the air wavering like above a road on a hot day.

 

 The stone rotated several times, ponderously turning itself over, until it seemed to latch onto something. It found a position slightly above Mairon’s eye level, pointing him in a direction towards a grove of slender birch trees.

 

 He raised his eyebrows. “Neat trick. What did you say this rock was again?” 

 

 “It’s a lodestone. They are relatively uncommon. I find them in riverbeds from time to time.” Melkor turned and delicately picked his way from the cliffside. “Shall we?” He asked, holding out his arm to Mairon.

 

 Dropping to a crouch, Mairon took Melkor’s arm and swung down from the boulder. He landed lightly on the moss below and stepped back, boots scuffing at the rich earth.

 

 “So it'll guide us?” He asked, peering at the lodestone. Melkor nodded once, expression matter-of-fact. “Let it lead. You have to trust in your magic. Don't lose focus.”

 

 “Got it.” He closed his eyes for a heartbeat, finding the tug of the stone and turning towards it. Opening them once more, he set off down the slope, Melkor trailing several paces behind.

 

 The walk through the woods was pleasant. The air was brisk, and the wind made the birch trees sway gently. The vegetation was thin, allowing for a clear view of the path ahead into the valley. The sound of the river flowing and the wind in the branches made for a pleasant ambience as the two made their way down the slopes.

 

 Something was...off. Mairon couldn't place it, but there was something ever so slightly  _ wrong _ about the ley line. It was a sense of unease, a leaden tug at the steady flow of magic. 

 

 He tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the warmth of the sunlight where it dappled through the trees and the rustles of small animals on the forest floor. A raven’s call, unusually hoarse, echoed through the valley as they reached the flatter ground at the bottom of the slopes.

 

  The path seemed to appear from nothing before them as they followed the lodestone’s pull, emerging seamlessly from the forest and melting away behind them. A hint of insecurity fluttered in Mairon's chest, the flaw in the magic aside. Leading Melkor through his own domain was downright nerve-wracking; he found himself desperately wanting to save face in front of the fae.

 

 “Is this the right way?” He found himself asking, flinching at how awkward he sounded. He stared pointedly at a nearby birch, avoiding Melkor's gaze.

 

 Melkor's voice was calm and deep. “Do you believe it is right?”

 

 “I--well, yes, this is where the lodestone is taking me, but…” He shrugged helplessly. Daring a glance at Melkor, he saw a reassuring look in his eyes. “Then this is the right way. Trust yourself, Mairon. You are learning the ways of magic quickly.”

 

 Mairon blushed slightly and walked a little faster, straightening his posture as he led Melkor through the woods.

 

 After some time, the land began to rise once more. The uneasy weight on the ley line almost seemed to surge in intensity, bringing with it brief pulses of pain and almost making Mairon lose his focus on the magic. He narrowed his eyes in concentration, frowning.

 

 “Is something wrong?” Melkor's brow furrowed as he caught sight of the expression on Mairon's face. He sighed and rubbed at his temples. “Yeah. It's nothing more than a weight on the magic, but it's enough to give me a bitch of a headache.” He forced a small chuckle despite another brief ache pulsing to life behind his eyes.

 

 Melkor's frown deepened and he fiddled with the clasp of his cloak. “You should not be in pain. Can you describe the weight more for me?”

 

 “It's almost like...lead, I suppose. Trying to tear the magic from my grasp. But it's not very strong, I can take it.” The sun felt far too hot. Mairon slid his flannel from his shoulders and tied it off around his waist. The breeze felt almost heavenly on his bare arms.

 

 Melkor closed his eyes, seeming to lose himself to thought for a few seconds. “Something strange is happening. I have noticed it in many ways lately. Small discrepancies…” He paused, abruptly turning to stare into the sky.

 

 “What is it?” Mairon craned his neck, looking for whatever had caught Melkor's attention, but he saw nothing save patches of bright blue sky between swaying branches of evergreens. 

 

 “Most likely nothing.” He adjusted his cloak, fingers brushing almost unconsciously over the hilt of a knife visible at his belt. “We are nearly there.” 

 

 One look at his stern expression and the wariness etched into every line of his face told Mairon that he wouldn't be answering any questions about it.

 

 “Got it.” Mairon shifted his attention back to the lodestone, balancing it midair once more and focusing on the draw of the spell. He tensed, expecting a resurgence of pain, but nothing came. Exhaling slowly, he followed the path the magic pulled him down.

 

 Though the headache had died down, a pressing sense of unease only grew heavier. He narrowed his eyes and scanned the forest around him as he led Melkor up the slopes, half-expecting to see lights in the distance or a dark shape following them through the undergrowth. 

 

 Mairon knew he should never ignore his instincts, years of exploring had taught him that much. To brush aside a gut feeling could prove lethal. But he tried to push it down anyway. He was in a territory ruled by Melkor, and the fae was clearly clued in to any danger. If anything were to happen, he was sure to protect Mairon. 

 

  “Here.” Melkor spoke suddenly, pointing at a place just ahead where the trees broke. Beyond was a large meadow, bordered by a mix of tall pines and dense rhododendrons. The grass was relatively short, but lush and bright green, spotted with wildflowers. 

 

 Mairon let go of the ley line, and the magic receded. The lodestone dropped itself into Mairon’s palm, weighing heavily in his hand. He slipped it into his pack.

 

As they stepped clear of the treeline, something rustled in a rhododendron. The sharp sound pierced through the otherwise-quiet forest. The hairs rose on the back of Mairon’s neck. He turned to face it. He grasped Melkor’s arm and pointed wordlessly at the dense brush. Melkor followed the gesture with his eyes, tensing slightly beneath Mairon’s touch. He leaned forward, knees bending and blackened fingers curling around the hilt of his knife.

 

 The pair audibly exhaled as a squonk peeked out of the glossy foliage. Wiry dark fur surrounded the pitch-black eyes and partially covered its snout as the creature delicately snuffled at the air. 

 

 “Guess we’re both getting jumpy.” Mairon said, shooting Melkor a lopsided grin. The fae stood motionless for a few seconds, meeting the squonk’s gaze, before straightening back up and giving Mairon an absent nod. The squonk scuttled away quietly, vanishing back into the undergrowth.

 

  Melkor gestured out at the clearing, cloak rippling with green as the sunlight caught the black feathers. “This is where I perform my rituals. Circle magics cannot be cast in the same way as ordinary spells.”

 

 “I know a bit about circle rituals.” Mairon paused as he noticed a cleared circle of earth in front of his feet, bordered with sigils etched firmly into the ground, clear lines standing out sharp against the dirt. The cleared patch was eerily perfect in its symmetry and flawlessness. At each cardinal point sat a small pile of oblong stones, sitting neatly at the edge of the circle.

 

 “So you’ve read up?” Melkor brushed past him and walked to the center of the circle, where a slab of bedrock sat exposed to the sky. The stone was suspiciously smooth and flat, gray rippled with white.

 

 “Yes, my parents have a few books about folk magic, though the general consensus is that it’s just superstition.”  Mairon poked the rock with the toe of his boot. “This is your focus?” He asked. 

 

 Melkor nodded and gave him an appreciative look. “You really have been studying. Yes, it is.” He reached into the pouch hanging at his side and retrieved a stick of what looked like black chalk. Deftly peeling back the thin leather wrapper, he knelt and drew a circular symbol on the rock. The powder stuck to the stone, standing out harshly against it.

 

 Mairon crouched beside Melkor, watching him add swooping lines with delicate motions of the chalk. “Do you know what else is required for a circle rite?” Melkor asked, not looking up from perfecting his drawing.

 

 He paused to think, closing his eyes and remembering the pages of text and diagrams from the antique books. “Some sort of tribute?” He asked. Melkor gave him a single nod.    
  


 “I took the liberty of gathering what we need for the warding ritual.” He unclipped a small drawstring pouch from his belt and placed it carefully on the glyph. Mairon observed it with interest. “What’s in that?”

 

 Melkor didn’t respond for a moment, tracing the lines of the glyph with one finger. The grass around the circle swayed and bent in the wind, greenish-gray waves rippling through the meadow. Clouds rolled across the sky, casting a shadow over the valley. Mairon briefly gazed up into the pale gray expanse above his head. A bird circled in the distance, a mere speck that was almost lost in the sheer vastness that was the sky. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. 

 

 When he looked back down, Melkor rapidly glanced away from him and focused on the glyph once more. Mairon blinked as he spotted the faintest hint of color rising on the fae’s pale face. Melkor coughed awkwardly. “So, the tribute bag?”

 

 He undid the cord and held open the top, letting Mairon peer inside. The contents were jumbled together in the soft leather of the bag. Mairon squinted to get a better look.

 

 A small bundle of herbs that Mairon recognized as sage and fennel sat atop a small heap of salt. In the center of the jumble was a quartz with a clouded fracture spiderwebbing across otherwise-flawless facets. 

 

 “So these are exchanged for the spell?” Mairon confirmed. Melkor nodded, looking appreciative. “Yes. I need to set up the candles.” He stood and headed towards one of the piles of stones. Mairon paused to tie the bag closed once more, then stood and followed him.

 

 He watched with curiosity as Melkor stopped at one rockpile, drew a candle from his bag, and settled it into place. He drew his knife and carved a few lines into the white wax, the slender tip of his blade moving in quick strokes. 

 

 The fae turned to Mairon and pressed reddish moss into his hand. “Could you light the candles for me?” Their eyes briefly met, ice blue on warm amber, and Mairon felt his heart skip a beat. 

 

 “O-of course.” He flinched inwardly at his stutter, turning to the candle and closing his eyes as he focused. The swell of heat came easily to him this time, spreading down his arm and channeling itself into a spark at the wick of the candle. 

 

 Mairon trailed him around the clearing, lighting the other three candles with a fluid ease after Melkor had finished setting them up and carving the branching sigils into the wax. When all four burned with a golden-orange glow, the pair met beside the focus.

 

 The clouds were settling in, growing darker slowly but surely. A raven’s hoarse cry echoed through the mountains. The sharp scent of pine sap was carried in on the breeze, and the evergreens swayed with the wind.

 

 “What next?” Mairon asked. His heart began to beat a little faster as he looked at Melkor across the central glyph, and while he couldn’t place the exact cause, he knew it wasn’t just the unfamiliarity of the new ritual. 

 

 Melkor silently extended both hands, palms up. Mairon was seized with something akin to apprehension, but he brushed it aside. With soft movements, he rested his hands in the fae’s, taking care not to damage the burnt skin. 

 

 His hands were cool against Mairon’s. Though he was gentle as he grasped Mairon’s hands, there was a definite strength to his grip despite the softness of his skin. Mairon forced back the inexplicable fluttering sensation in his chest and took a deep breath.

 

 “I will do the incantations. You simply need to aid me in channeling the energy.” Melkor was calm and unblinking. “Just don’t let go, and try to relax.” 

 

 “Alright.” Mairon closed his eyes, inhaling slow and deep as he waited for Melkor to begin. He shivered involuntarily at the chill of the mountain air, the flannel tied about his waist blown about easily by the breeze. Mairon closed his eyes. He directed his focus to his breathing, keeping it slow and steady. Several moments of silence passed, filled only by birdsong.

 

 Melkor’s chant was low-pitched and quiet. His words weren’t in any language Mairon could even begin to recognize. They were deep and seemed to mesh with the rhythm of the Appalachians, like the babble of a brook flowing over stones, the rumble of a landslide, or the rush of a gust of wind in the pines. His chant was ancient, as old as the mountains themselves, and each word seemed to carry all the history and power of the soaring peaks and rolling forests where the fae made his home.

 

 Mairon shuddered but didn't let go of Melkor's hands as the surge of power flowed through him. He grounded himself shakily, heart pounding and adrenaline surging through his veins. He clung to Melkor as though he was a lifeline, tightening his grasp on the fae’s strong hands. 

 

 The chant rose and fell as though it was something living. Ripples of energy pulsed through the circle. Mairon opened his eyes a slit, curious to see the effects of their ritual.

 

 The flames of the candles leapt ever higher, swaying and casting flickering shadows over the meadow. The glyphs pulsed with energy and light, and fine threads of energy connected each one in an elegant web of magic.

 

 Mairon was enraptured by Melkor's voice, by the mysterious language he chanted in. His words seemed to weave and mesh with the world around them, the chant reverent and intense. Mairon felt as though he was floating, held aloft by the sheer amount of energy that channeled through him. His body felt almost frail compared to the surge of energy.

 

 Suddenly, Melkor's chanting stopped. A gust of wind extinguished the candles, and the web of magic flickered out, ripples of light vanishing outwards. A low rumble seemed to shake the entire world, subtle and yet frighteningly powerful. Mairon felt it in his bones, the deep shudder making him grit his teeth and clench his jaw.

 

 Melkor slowly released his hands, breathing as though he had just run a marathon. There was a wild look in his eyes.

 

 “Is it done?” Mairon asked, still a little breathless. His head was light, and he felt as though the softest touch could knock him over. 

 

 “Yes.” Melkor wiped his hand over his brow and adjusted his cloak. “The ward is set to come to life beneath the light of the full moon tomorrow night. It will last until dawn. While it will not render you invulnerable, you will be guaranteed a measure of safety.” 

 

 “How will I know it's working?” Mairon's eyes fell on the wild forest, apprehension evident in the tightness of his shoulders and how his lips pressed into a thin line.

 

 “You know how magic feels. It will be similar to that. You may gain a faint aura.” Melkor explained. Mairon nodded his understanding. 

 

“However.” Melkor's tone suddenly became stern, and he stepped past the glyph to gaze down at Mairon.

 

“If you don't feel any sort of change, then you absolutely must not go into the mountains. This is dangerous even with the ward. You have to be as quick as possible in your journey, and do not even consider going without the magic active.” He paused, and when he received no response, he narrowed his eyes. “Do you understand me?” 

 

 Mairon nodded once more. “I do. I know as well as you what's out there. I'll keep all three of us safe, don't worry.”

 

 Melkor nodded. “Good. If you need help, feel free to come to my home. I will aid you if I can, though I generally prefer not to be seen by humans.”

 

 “What about me?” Mairon gave him a good-natured grin. Melkor's lips curved into something resembling a smile. “I would consider you an exception. I quite like you, Mairon.” 

 

 Mairon felt that all-too-familiar heat rising in his cheeks once more. Willing the blush away, he turned away to look once more at the tangled branches of the forest's edge, only to gasp and step back.

 

 A large bird swooped out towards him in a blur of charcoal-black feathers, twisted plumes of red standing out in blotchy patches on the ragged body. It gave a raven-like shriek, and yet it seemed too hoarse and low-pitched, as though the bird's throat had been scraped raw.

 

 Mairon stumbled back as it lunged for his head, claws glinting like dark razors. Melkor shoved him out of the way, sending him sprawling onto the flattened earth within the circle. Another croaking shriek pierced the air.

 

 He struggled into a sitting position as the raven turned on Melkor, claws aimed at the fae's eyes. Melkor ducked, drawing his knife with a rapid motion. The blade rose and fell, narrowly missing the creature’s head. It circled up and dove again for another pass. Melkor aimed his blade for the dark head, but he twisted mid-lunge and fell.

 

 It felt almost as though time slowed down when Melkor fell atop Mairon, dropping his knife as he threw his hands out to avoid crushing the human. Mairon gasped and curled up on himself instinctively as Melkor's palms slammed into the earth on either side of him. 

 

 Then the bird was hurtling towards them, Mairon's eyes were widening as he raised his arms in an attempt to protect his head, and Melkor's fingers were curling around the leather-wrapped hilt of the knife at Mairon's hip. As talons raked down Mairon's forearms, he perceived a harsh grating noise as the blade of his knife scraped against the sheath.

 

 Melkor struck without hesitation, plunging the blade into the bird-thing’s breast. It let out one loud, croaking scream as it crashed to the ground. The knife rose and fell once more. Blood spurted from the creature’s ragged body, leaving crimson splashes warm across his pale cheek. He yelped.

 

 “Mairon! Are you alright?” Melkor leaned down to him with an urgency that Mairon had never seen from him before. He set the knife aside and took Mairon's wrist, examining the row of shallow cuts extending down to his elbow.

 

 “I'll be fine.” Mairon met his gaze, seeing nothing but worry and a kind of fervid gentleness in those blue eyes. Melkor frowned, brow furrowing as he took in the sight of the cuts. “Those could get infected. Let me clean you up.”

 

 Melkor stood and fumbled with his beltpouch, retrieving a woven cloth and kneeling at his side. He wiped away the blood from Mairon's arm, making him flinch at the coarse fabric against the wounds. 

 

 Melkor searched through his pouch once more, pulling out a brown glass bottle and tipping a few drops of strong-smelling liquid onto the cloth. “This will probably hurt.” He warned, taking Mairon's wrist once more and wiping the damp cloth over the row of cuts.

 

 Mairon flinched at the sting of the tincture, but held still and allowed him to clean each long, shallow scratch out. A powerful astringent scent filled the air, making Mairon's nose wrinkle.

 

 Melkor pulled a simple white wrap from the pouch next and tied it around Mairon's forearm, tying it neatly into place with a secure knot. 

 

 “Thanks.” Mairon shot him a grateful smile. Melkor half-returned it, lips curling ever so slightly, before he busied himself with packing away his medical kit. “Think nothing of it.”

 

 Mairon sat up and knelt beside the bird. He frowned. The red patches looked almost fungal in nature, but they were unlike anything he'd ever seen before.

 

 “Do you know what kind of creature this is?” He called over his shoulder. Melkor was at his side in an instant, brow furrowing as he examined the bird's carcass. 

 

 “It would appear to have once been a raven.” He spoke slowly, voice deep and rumbling. The hairs on the back of Mairon's neck stood up. “ _ Once _ was a raven?” He echoed.

 

 “Something has taken hold of it.” Melkor stood and kicked the corpse into the bushes outside the ritual circle. “I do not know if it can contaminate other living beings. Do not attempt to find out.” He gave Mairon a meaningful glance. The human nodded.

 

 “Do this happen often?” He asked. Melkor hesitated, seeming to think deeply for a moment, before he sighed. “There is no trying to conceal it from you. Something inside the mountains is….stirring. It is wrong, unnatural--a taint on the Appalachians. A blight. It manifests in many ways.”

 

 “Trees fall when they should not. Rivers overflow far too quickly. Spells misfire. Something is wrong with the ley lines, as you noticed with your lodestone earlier. Plants become corrupted. Creatures--” he nodded towards the place he'd kicked the bird's body-- “are twisted into something  _ other _ .”

 

 “Do you know why?” Mairon asked, frowning. Melkor shook his head reluctantly. “No. I do not believe anyone does. There are many fae who would deny what is happening, but I know. And now you do as well.”

 

 “If there's ever anything I can do, please let me know.” Mairon's voice was soft. “The mountains are as much my home as they are yours. I would hate to see them succumb to a fate like this.”

 

 Melkor laid a hand on his shoulder as the wind sang through the rhododendrons surrounding the meadow. “I hesitate to involve a human in such matters, but I believe you have proven yourself. If there is anything that can be done, you may aid in doing it.”

 

 Mairon sighed softly and bent to pick up his pack, ignoring the throbbing pain in his arm. Melkor's eyes darkened. “Be careful with those wounds. They may become infected. If they do, apply something made of iron or silver. Salt may work in a pinch. If none of that draws out the blight, come to me at once.”

 

 “Salt and iron?” Mairon frowned for a second, confused, before it dawned on him. His lips parted wordlessly. “Oh, you mean...whatever the raven was carrying could be passed on to--” 

 

 Melkor nodded, his face grim. “I do not believe it likely, but please be cautious.”

 

 Mairon swallowed thickly. “Got it.” He tried to force a grin, but it felt more like a painful grimace. 

 

 “Do not worry yourself.” Melkor gave him a comforting look. He bent down, pulled Mairon's knife from the ground, and wiped it on the grass. He offered it silently to Mairon.

 

 Mairon silently stowed it, then tilted his head to look at the darkening sky. The clouds hung low and gray over the forest, and the air smelled strongly of ozone.

 

 “I need to get back soon.” Mairon said, half to himself. Melkor nodded. “Go now. Remember, do not leave beneath the full moon unless your ward activates properly.”

 

 “I get it.” He smiled wanly, then patted Melkor's shoulder. “Nice doing rituals with you. I'll see you soon.”

 

 “So you wish to continue training with me?” Melkor seemed to light up. Mairon nodded. “Of course.”

 

 “Wonderful. Meet me at my home the day after the full moon.” Melkor waited for his nod of confirmation before turning to vanish into the forest, seeming to instantly melt away among the trees and tangled rhododendrons.

 

 Mairon watched him go for a few moments longer than he should have before turning his back to the rain-heavy clouds and hastening back towards town.

 

 Rainstorms in the Appalachians, after all, were never good news.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "falling on top of romantic interest" cliche? In my fanfiction? It's more likely than you think.


	9. Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mairon escorts Ilmarë and Arien through the mountains and encounters a presence that leaves him changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi yes this took forever to update but I did it!

Rainwater splashed beneath Mairon’s feet as he climbed out of his truck and surveyed the expanse of mud and gravel leading up to the forested slope. Reddish mud speckled the cuffs of his jeans, and light droplets of water from the misty rain landed on his face and hair. He blinked up at the patchy gray clouds above, silvery moonlight shining through the gaps. 

 

Visible in the dim light, two women were silhouetted higher up on the hill, just outside the trees. He made his way up to them, raising one hand in silent greeting.

 

“I'd begun to think you wouldn't come.” Ilmarë was visibly relieved as she stepped forward to greet him. Arien stood behind her, the hood of her raincoat casting her strong features into shadow. Both women were packed for their journey. Ilmarë was visibly nervous, but excitement smoldered steady in her eyes.

 

 “Shall we go?” Arien asked, taking her girlfriend's hand. Mairon shook his head. “No. Wait a moment.” He peered into the sky, blinking through the raindrops.

 

 He stepped out into a patch of watery moonlight, tilting his face up to stare at the gap in the clouds. He could almost sense Arien and Ilmarë’s confusion with his behavior, but he ignored it, casting about internally for any trace of magic.

 

 For what felt like forever, nothing happened. Mairon was keenly aware of how foolish he looked, standing stock-still with his head tipped back in the rain. He was about to consider giving up when he felt a jolt.

 

 He jumped slightly with surprise at the sudden swell of magic. Grinning in relief, he turned back to the two women. “Did you feel it too?” He called, taking in the wide-eyed expressions on their faces. Ilmarë nodded. “That tug...was that magic?” Her voice dropped on the last word, as though afraid to voice her thoughts. Mairon nodded. Arien raised her eyebrows wordlessly, but he could tell that she was impressed.

 

 “We're good to go.” Mairon stepped past them and pushed aside a low-hanging branch, holding it back for them. “You two coming?” He asked.

 

 “Of course.” Arien stepped up first, squeezing Ilmarë's hand for reassurance as they entered the Appalachians, leaving behind the influence of humans.

 

 The forest was dark, the thin light of the stars and moon unable to slip past the thick clouds and rain-lashed canopy of the trees. Above the trio, branches creaked and groaned in the wind. The tangled undergrowth was a nigh-impenetrable mass of branches, thorns, and overgrown ferns.

 

 The path was muddy and strewn with exposed roots and rocks, making travel slow. Mairon could have traversed it far faster if he was alone, but he knew that neither Arien nor Ilmarë shared his expertise at woodland travel. He checked his gait, moving at more manageable pace over the rough terrain.

 

 Mairon frowned to himself as he felt a brief but insistent prickle of foreboding in his chest. Something was wrong, ever so slightly  _ off _ , and while he couldn’t quite pin it down, he had learned time and again that his instincts were never to be ignored.

 

 “Keep up.” He called over his shoulder, urging the two to increase their pace as much as they could. Arien looked almost questioningly at him, but he ignored it. Explaining would serve no purpose except panicking them.

 

  “We need to get to the parking lot beside the waterfall trail. It’s near the mile marker.” Arien called from behind him, raising her voice to be heard over the storm. Mairon nodded. “I know where that is. Thuri and I use it as a meetup spot all the time.” 

 

 “Good.” She sounded relieved. “Lead us on, then.”

 

 Walking with surety under the protective ward of the spell, Mairon took them higher and higher up the mountain. Small things scuffled in the undergrowth to either side of the narrow winding trail--squonks or more mundane animals, he imagined. Nothing to worry them. He fell into the comfortable familiarity of walking through the forest, at ease among the thorns and trees and red earth.

 

 Ilmarë and Arien were another story. Their nervousness was palpable. Mairon could see the tension in their shoulders, their hurried steps, the startled looks in their eyes as they glanced warily around.

 

 He ignored it for their sake, but when a tree groaned in the wind and Ilmarë let out a sharp noise of surprise, he turned to them and gave them the most reassuring look he could muster. “It’s alright, it won’t be much longer.” 

 

 Ilmarë shot him a wan smile. “Sorry. I’m just not used to this sort of thing.” Mairon shrugged. “Not many are. The mountains are a strange place.” 

 

  “You can say that again.” Arien muttered. She looked distinctly unimpressed with the labyrinthine wilderness around them, shoulders tense and lips curled into an anxious frown. 

 

 Their walk continued as the moon moved in increments across the sky, signaling the passage of time as they drew closer to their destination.

 

 A fallen tree lay across their path, snapped remnants of branches jutting from the rotting trunk in all directions like jagged claws. Mairon clambered up onto the log without hesitation, balancing lightly atop it. Ilmarë paused before it, seeming to gauge the slippery bark and rotted wood with appraising eyes.

 

 “Need a hand?” Mairon asked, extending his arm to her. She nodded gratefully and grasped his wrist, pulling herself up onto the tree. Her boots scrabbled at the decomposing red bark, sending chunks of slippery wood falling to the leaf litter below. She swayed in place as she struggled to find her footing on the treacherous ground.

 

 Mairon helped her balance herself, grasping the strap of her pack to keep it from toppling her off her feet. As she finally righted herself, Arien climbed up onto the log beside them and jumped down the other side, landing heavily in the wet clay. She exhaled sharply as she nearly fell, reaching out with one hand to catch herself before she could faceplant in the mud.

 

 A deep, rumbling growl echoed through the forest around them. Ilmarë’s eyes widened and Arien froze. Mairon looked swiftly around, trying to discern the origins of the noise. “Keep moving. It’s okay, we should be protected.” 

 

 Ilmarë jumped off the log and helped Arien to her feet before taking off at a quick walk up the trail. Mairon followed behind, every muscle in his body tense with sharp awareness of his surroundings. The prickle in his chest was stronger now, becoming impossible to ignore. He fell in beside them, leading them up the trail at as fast a pace as they could muster in the harsh conditions.

 

 The rain picked up, sending torrents of water and mud down the mountainside. Mairon could hear something far too heavy to be human moving through the thick brush and rhododendrons around them, barely audible over the ambience of the storm. 

 

“What was that?” Arien asked urgently. She was on the verge of breaking into a sprint, knuckles white on Ilmarë’s hand. Mairon shook his head. “I don’t know. It could be any number of creatures.” 

 

“Can you tell it to back down?” Ilmarë chimed in. “Like you did that winter.” Mairon bit back a sigh. “I don’t know what happened that time. I’m not some kind of animal whisperer.”

 

 A branch broke in the forest, snapping loudly off to their right. All three immediately swiveled to look in that direction, the tension in the air rising to a breaking point. 

 

 “We need to go!” Mairon took off up the trail, making sure they kept pace with his practiced strides. They moved as a group, sticking together on their dash through the mountains.

 

 The forest seemed to be getting darker by the second, the path half-hidden by cloying shadows. The wind roared through the trees, making the raindrops lash harder against anything in their path. Mud and water sprayed up around the trio’s legs as they ran, soaking their jeans and boots. 

 

 “You two keep in front of me!” Mairon shortened his stride and let himself fall behind the pair. Ilmarë gave him a wild glance, eyes full of fear. “Don't leave us!”

 

 “I won't, just keep moving!” He urged them onwards, alert for any sound or movement in the forests around them.

 

 There was nothing that leapt out at him from sight or hearing alone, but his sixth sense was practically screaming at him to run faster, to hide, anything to evade the burning gaze he could feel emanating from what felt like the mountain itself. Something was out there, and its intentions were clear.

 

 They rounded a bend in a spray of rainwater, damp clay sticking to their boots and the cuffs of their jeans. Arien's hood was blown back by a gust of wind, her hair darkening with water almost instantly. A flicker of movement, a dark blur, caught Mairon’s eye, but when he faced it head-on it disappeared.

 

 “We're almost there!” Arien called, pointing ahead with one mud-stained hand. Mairon looked ahead and saw a flicker of light through the forested slope. Headlights. A rush of relief swamped him.

 

 “Careful on the hill!” He warned. The ground below him was muddy and loose, full of protruding roots and stones. His feet skidded on the wet clay and leaf litter, and he caught himself clumsily on the trunk of an oak.

 

 Arien was all but full-on sliding down the hill, speed barely checked by Ilmarë's stubborn grasp on her hand. Ilmarë herself clutched at saplings and branches, heels digging into the wet earth. Mairon lagged behind, breath coming in sharp gasps. The air was cold and heavy with rain, never seeming to be enough to fill his lungs.

 

 Behind them, branches snapped and another low growl shook the air. Mairon's gaze darted wildly from side to side as he attempted to catch even the quickest glimpse of their pursuer, to gain an inkling of insight as to what it was, but the forest remained an indistinct jumble of dark shapes in shades of washed-out grays and greens.

 

 Noticing that Ilmarë had stopped running to join him in looking around, Mairon shook his head. “Keep going! You guys are almost there!” Ilmarë blinked wide-eyed at him. “What are you planning?” She called over the storm, wariness creeping into her voice. Mairon gave her what he hoped was a soothing look. “Just go on, don’t worry about me.” His voice grew more hushed as he ushered the women down the hill. Relief sparked within him at the sight of harsh yellow headlights just beyond the trees ahead cutting through the smothering darkness and storm.

 

   Cursing under his breath at their bad luck, Mairon urged them through the last barrier of rhododendrons blocking them from the expanse of gravel at the side of the road. He flinched at the noise the duo made as they crashed into the thicket, smashing branches beneath their feet and bumping noisily into trees and low-growing bushes. The snapping twigs and crunching leaves sounded piercingly loud despite the rain, surely alerting their pursuer to their location. 

 

 Mairon flinched at the loud crack of branches as Arien burst out onto the gravel with a strangled gasp of relief. Her grip on Ilmare’s hand must be painfully tight at this point, judging by the tension in her arm as she pulled her girlfriend out of the forest.

 

 A wave of muddy water splashed over the hem of Mairon’s jeans as Arien tore through a puddle, not slowing despite the visibly soaked fabric of her pants clinging to her legs in what surely must be an uncomfortable manner. Ilmarë sped up to keep pace, her breathing ragged and sharp. Arien’s sprint was far more practiced, reminding Mairon of her high school career as a runner.

 

 Up ahead, the lights of the truck cut sharply through the gloom, making raindrops flash with metallic color as they fell. Arien and Ilmarë closed the distance between them and the mud-spattered vehicle with haste.

 

 “You two go!” Mairon called, voice carrying over the wind and creaking branches. He skidded to a halt in a wave of gravel and struggled to catch his breath, chest heaving. He felt too warm despite the chill of the night, and his face was surely flushed from his dash through the forest. 

 

 Arien skidded to a halt just beside the door and shook her head wildly, soaked hair sticking to her forehead. “You have to come with us, it’s not safe out here!” She called. Ilmarë, too, hesitated with her fingers curled around the handle. She was so close to safety--just one tug and the door would open, letting her and Arien escape the danger of the mountains. “We can’t leave you!” She protested.

 

 “I promise I’ll be okay! Remember that winter?” Mairon responded, voice cracking slightly with the effort of yelling after running so hard. Both women hesitated, exchanging a meaningful glance, before Arien yanked open the door and nudged Ilmarë in. Ilmarë cast a frantic look back over her shoulder. “Call me when you’re home!” She met his eyes as she called out to him.

 

 Mairon nodded his agreement, and Ilmarë briefly closed her eyes as she lingered in the door of the car. The harsh light threw her features into sharp relief, making her frantic expression all the more obvious. “If you don’t contact me within an hour or two, you’d better believe I’m calling the cops!” 

 

 Mairon cracked a small smile as Ilmare ducked into the car to let Arien in, vanishing from his view. “That won’t be necessary!” He wasn’t sure if she heard his response or not, but as the car’s engine revved and the sound of the door slamming shut echoed across the gravel lot, he turned on his heels and sprinted back towards the dark edge of the forest.

 

 He veered, entering the thick tangle of trees and brush at a different place from where he’d emerged with Arien and Ilmarë. On his own, he could move so much faster and more silently. His heart pounded and his veins sang with adrenaline as he raced through the forest, each step as light and well-placed as those of a deer.

 

 Another growl, pitched so low it was felt more than heard, met Mairon's ears and made him shiver. It was a piercing sound, seeming to reach almost to his bones. A heavy lump of dread crept into his throat. He knew he couldn't take the risk of whatever lurked in the brush continuing pursuit of Arien and Ilmarë; after all, some creatures of the Appalachians could stalk their prey for years upon years if they became fixated on an unfortunate human.

 

The alternative, however, had left him stranded in the mountains with an unknown force. Its presence was all-consuming and blindingly intense, and definitely not friendly.

 

 He ran faster, every sense on high alert in an attempt to catch any sign of his pursuer moving in for an attack. A rustle in the bushes made him jump, veering off his path and narrowly avoiding careening into the mud lining the trail. He caught himself on a fallen log, wincing with the pain of the wet bark tearing into his bare skin.

 

Mairon let out a muffled cursed at the pain, instinctively clutching his bleeding palm to his chest. He slipped further on the soaked ground and landed heavily against the log, back slamming into the lichen-coated surface. 

 

 Eyes flashed in the gloom, and Mairon froze. For a moment, nothing happened. The rain continued to pound against the ground and trees, water pooling in rivulets on the nearby boulders and tree trunks. 

 

 A creature emerged from the bushes, moving with an alien fluidity. Mairon let out a small noise of relief when he recognized it as a wolf, but he was still in danger and he knew it. The presence was still pushing at his mind, insistent and impossible to ignore.

 

 The creature moved closer, silvery pelt gleaming like liquid metal in the watery moonlight. It let out a small whine and the pointed ears perked towards Mairon. He slowly stood, bracing himself on the log as he slowly helped himself out of the mud. 

 

 Mairon stood motionless, and for a moment he and the wolf simply stared each other down. Those burning amber eyes met his brown ones, and suddenly he couldn't look away. That gaze was too human, too intelligent and sentient for him to tear himself away from.

 

 Flickers of motion at the edges of his field of view broke the spell of its gaze. He turned to see more wolves slinking into the small clearing. Their eyes flashed golden and orange, and their sleek bodies varied in color from an almost blinding white to a beautiful iron gray to an ebony to rival the shadows around them.

 

 Mairon glanced back to the first wolf, and it met his questioning stare once more. He slowly backed away, keenly aware of the wolf pack hovering silently around the edges of the trees. His heart pounded. The situation had turned even more uncertain than before.

 

 As he stepped back into a path of ferns, the wolf nearest to him stepped closer. It kept shadowing him, gait fluid and neat as it walked several paces behind him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as the rest of the pack also moved after him, maintaining a seamless formation as they followed him down the slope. He instinctively tensed, ready to spring into action.

 

 Yet something inhibited the fear he knew he should feel. When he cautiously allowed his mind to cast out towards them, he felt a presence distinctly different from the one that still pressed heavy at the edge of his consciousness. The presence of the pack was not oppressive and menacing like the previous one. It didn't feel like a thunderstorm encroaching upon him, but rather a fire burning in a hearth: warm and safe and protective.

 

 It was just as unknowable as the other presence lingering in the forest, but nothing wild would ever be truly comprehensible to a human. To Mairon, that was the beauty of it.

 

 He turned and walked down the slope with renewed confidence, the wolves closing ranks around him and accompanying him through the storm-lashed forest. He could perceive their delicate silhouettes slipping through the undergrowth around him, as silent and graceful as fish in a stream. 

 

 Their bodies were limned in blue, illuminating the nimble forms as they walked alongside the human in their midst. It was an unmistakable magical aura, and despite his situation a sense of awe made his lips curve into a smile.

 

 Another threatening growl echoed through the forest like distant thunder, but the warm presence of the pack surrounded him like firelight. He felt the weight against his mind dropping away, becoming lighter by the moment. A sense of calm spilled into the void left by the oppressive fear. 

 

 Mairon's journey down the mountain was almost serene despite the storm raging above his head and the water that had thoroughly soaked his clothes and hair. It was downright ethereal, with the deep blue glow of each wolf’s lithe body shining like a multitude of beacons around him.

 

 As he reached the lower slopes, the rain petered out to a light drizzle. Mist billowed from the sky in slender tendrils, spilling ribbons of silver in between the trees, but Mairon still felt no fear. Walking there with the mist weaving almost lovingly around his ankles, the wolves forming a protective circle about him, and the lights of his town shining through the trees ahead, he felt more a part of the forest than he ever had in his past.

 

 And as the bright blue lights of the wisps began to flicker to life among the trees, Mairon could almost sense another life force at the edge of his mind. It was overwhelming, even with the barest flicker of it in his head. His eyes widened as he  _ swore _ he could hear a deep, steady, rumbling thrum. It was new and yet familiar, unmistakably powerful and capricious and veiled in mystery.

 

 With a jolt, Mairon realized he could feel the presence of the mountains themselves. The landscape was alive with vibrant energy. Everything seemed to sharpen and come into focus. 

 

 Mairon let out a little gasp of wonder, feeling like a child on his first outing into the forest once more. The slopes were familiar, and yet new. For the first time he felt truly a part of them. For a brief moment, he fully belonged to the mountains, just as much as the wisps shimmering hypnotically between the pines and the wolves still loping alongside him.

 

 Wandering as though in a dream, Mairon finally left the trees and descended into the fields leading over to civilization. The presence of the mountains withdrew from him, leaving him lightheaded. He blinked as he realized his legs were wobbly, but kept crossing the rain-wet grass. Puffy seeds from the taller stalks clung to his muddy jeans as his legs brushed against them.

 

  He paused when he felt the warm aura around him recede, and turned. The wolves stood in a cluster at the edge of the forest, each set of bright eyes fixed on him. The blue light on their fur was fading rapidly. Mairon gave them a grateful smile even as the sadness of leaving them set in.

 

 Seized by an urge he couldn't begin to understand, he bowed his head to them. His soaked hair swung into his eyes, but he was heedless of the unpleasant sensation. He watched, eyes bright with curiousity, from behind the curtain of his hair as he awaited a response.

  The first wolf trotted several paces ahead of the rest and dipped its head low in return, gray fur dancing with silver flecks in the moonlight. The moment lasted only a few fleeting heartbeats, but Mairon was hesitant to let it go: the lingering connection was more than most humans would ever feel in their lifetime.

 

 Mairon turned his back to the forest and continued on his way, the lighted windows of his hometown feeling far too harsh after the mystical glow in the mountains.


	10. Melkor's Motivation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While attempting to uncover the truth about what happened on the night of the storm, a truth about Melkor's past comes to light.

In the time after the storm, the weather was almost eerily calm. Ilmarë and Arien’s disappearance had caused a general stir throughout the town, including a frantic appeal from their mothers to anyone who knew the whereabouts of the women. If Mairon hadn't known how they had suffered living with their families, he would've been moved to tell them what he knew.

 

Mairon was content to stay out of the spotlight, offering only banal comments about how he missed them and hoped they were alright and would be home soon. The two were safe and well on their way to having a new life to share, and that knowledge was enough for him. He wished he could tell Thuringwethil and Gothmog, who were both obviously upset by their disappearance, but there could be no chance of word of their plan and current location getting out or being overheard.

 

 Even though he missed them both, some faint jealousy tainted his fond memories of them. Mairon would never dare give voice to the feelings brewing within him, but he yearned for something they had. Was it their close bond? The life they’d snatched outside the small town of their childhood? The fact that their future was as wide open as the endless blue skies above the peaks, and his was just as closed in as ever?

 

 Whatever it was, Mairon couldn’t seem to shake it. It clung to the edges of his thoughts even as he traipsed across rolling slopes blanketed in wildflowers. Their faint, yet sweet, scent filled the crisp air as he gained elevation. The familiar combination of a breeze in his hair and the sunlight warm on his face sapped the tension from his shoulders. He let out a soft sigh of relief as he cast his surroundings an admiring look. The beauty of the Appalachians outweighed the danger every time.

 

 A soft footstep, almost imperceptible, alerted him to the figure stepping from the shadows of the forest into the golden fields. He tensed briefly, but his lips curled into a smile as he recognized Melkor. His presence touched Mairon’s mind, warm and familiar, the sharp prickle that told him he was a fae as distinct as always. It was unusual to feel the presence of a fae and associate it with trust and companionship, even if Melkor’s presence always felt less fae-like than the others who dwelt in the Appalachians, but it was a change Mairon welcomed.

 

 “Mairon!” Melkor's call was excited and enthusiastic as his pace picked up, long legs carrying him swiftly towards Mairon. His dark hair swayed around his broad shoulders with his movement. The flaxen grass contrasted sharply with the feathers of his cloak as he passed through it. Mairon raised a hand in greeting, his mood immediately growing brighter.

 

 “How did the spell work out for you?” His brow creased with worry as he drew closer to Mairon. He half-shrugged. “Well, it worked well enough, since I'm here.” He gave the fae a crooked grin, which was not returned. Melkor only looked more concerned. “Did something happen?”

 

 Mairon cast a glance to the blue cornflowers growing around them, stalling as he tried to think of a quick way to ease Melkor's fears. He hated to see Melkor worry, but the fae could clearly tell that Mairon was withholding something. There was no point in keeping the truth from him for longer.

 

“It went down before we reached our destination.” He admitted. “There was something following us. I had them run and I got back on my own.” The hairs on the back of his neck stood up at the memory of the dark forest and the unseen creature stalking him through the brush. 

 

 Melkor let out an audible gasp. “How did you get through that? Are your friends--” Mairon shook his head. “They're fine. I'm fine. We got through, they'll be a few states away by now.” The wind kicked up and sent dry leaves tumbling from the treeline across the rippling fields. His gaze flicked briefly to the dark peaks in the distance. “They're starting a new life.” His voice was soft and more wistful than he'd intended.

 

 Melkor blinked and tilted his head, the little motion almost owl-like. “How did you get out without magic? You are still human, and any other of your kind would have been defenseless.” He looked nervous, blackened fingers twisting at the feathers of his cloak. Mairon half shrugged. “I'm full of surprises, you know.” 

 

 Standing before him, Mairon felt painfully aware of how fragile he was in comparison to the fae. Melkor had a certain aura of ancient power, volatile and surging through every detail of his aura like a stormy sea. He was physically imposing too, towering above Mairon by more than a head. His gaze lingered on his well-formed arms and shoulders. Even if Mairon didn't know his true nature, it would be apparent that he possessed a strength beyond that of an average person.

 

 A blush crept up Mairon's freckled face as he realized how long his gaze had lingered on Melkor's pale skin. He looked away quickly, ignoring the fact that his heart was fluttering for no apparent reason, and spoke while staring at a patch of pale blue cornflowers. “A pack of wolves showed up and helped me outrun whatever was chasing me. They protected me.” He was aware of how stupid and whimsical it sounded when put to words. He swallowed and scuffed the toe of one boot against gritty soil.

 

 He could almost feel Melkor's confused expression as he spoke. “That sounds quite unusual.” Mairon scoffed and tucked a wisp of crimson hair behind his ear. “No shit.”

 

 “Wolves helping a human is unheard of, to my knowledge. Fae, perhaps, but not one without the blood.” He sounded thoughtful as he began to pace a small circle among the wildflowers, hands folded behind his back. “Mairon, where did you meet with the pack? I wish to see them.”

 

 “I can take you there. It's not far from one of those roadside lots.” Mairon paused to pull one of his maps from the side pouch of his pack, then stepped past him and began to walk down the slope. He shot him an inquisitive glance from over his shoulder. “You coming?”

 

 Melkor followed him through the forests, matching his pace and the lightness of his steps. Mairon was almost amazed with the easy trust the fae placed in his guidance.

 

 The hike wore on, Mairon relying on his memory and the brown paper map in his hands to get them to their destination. As they walked through a long avenue of evergreens thick with deep green needles, he noticed flickers of movement in the patches of clear sky visible above the pointed treetops. 

 

 Several of Melkor's ravens fluttered along, trailing behind the pair. Mairon smiled at the sight of the shiny black birds. On a strange whim, he pursed his lips and whistled a few lilting notes. 

 

 A few moments passed. Mairon stopped walking and turned to face them. Melkor raised an eyebrow, but stayed at his side as he whistled again. One of the ravens sailed down on graceful wings, beady eyes dark with intelligence and curiosity. It landed on a branch just above Mairon's head and let out a deep, croaking caw.

 

 Melkor's eyes widened and his ears perked up with interest. Mairon grinned at him before shifting his attention back to the large bird, this time deciding to hum softly to it instead. He chose a simple tune and watched as the raven’s head quirked to one side. It swept off the branch in a rush of wings and landed on the ground, taking a cautious hop towards Mairon.

 

 He knelt down and hummed again, ending with a few whistled notes. The rest of the birds flew down in a rush of wings with a chorus of inquiring chirps and caws. Mairon continued his tune, leaning towards them unconsciously as an idea struck him. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling a warmth building in his core as he let his energy pool there. He let it go with a soft tug, feeling it flow into his voice as he imbibed each note with a welcoming warmth. 

 

 He was vaguely aware of Melkor kneeling beside him, watching the interaction between his ravens and the human. However, his attention was snatched back to the birds when one hopped up onto his arm. Its claws squeezed his skin gently as it balanced with little flicks of its tail. Up close, the intelligence in its gaze was even more clear.

 “They like you.” Melkor's voice was low and he sounded impressed. Mairon reached out cautiously to stroke the bird's fluffy feathers, running his fingers down its back with a soft hum to calm it.

 

 When Mairon stopped his tune, the raven blinked up at him before launching itself into the sky, followed by its brethren. They lingered much closer than before, attention focused on Mairon as they rode the breezes above the pair. Mairon chuckled and waved playfully up at them with one hand as they regarded him with intent stares.

 

 “You continue to surprise me.” Melkor remarked as they continued on into a glade coated by moss. “Though I have come to expect strange things from you, you still manage it. My ravens do not trust others that easily, and yet you drew them to you with a mere tune.” His tone remained conversational even as their path took them past a series of oddly symmetrical stones jutting up from the plush green moss, standing out white and cracked like broken teeth. His ears flattened back against his skull and his pace quickened as the hem of his cloak nearly brushed the chipped edge of one lopsided rock. Mairon gulped involuntarily as he noticed the faint gray marks that may once have been etchings in the worn surface. Something prickled sharply at the top of his spine, a silent but urgent warning that something was wrong.

 

 He looked up to notice that the trees ahead seemed almost to interlock, growing in an intimately close woven pattern instead of straight up. He could have sworn he saw the branches and trunks shifting to entwine closer together, but before he could look closer Melkor grasped his upper arm. He jumped, already on edge, at the touch. Melkor’s hand seemed to completely lack heat. “Stand beside me. I shall clear our path.” He sounded focused and intense.

 

 Mairon nodded once and stood at his side, almost uncomfortably aware of their closeness even when Melkor released his arm and raised both his hands out at an angle. His eyes seemed to flicker, the color changing to something darker for a moment as all his attention zeroed in on the impenetrable woven wall before them. 

 

 With a low-pitched creaking groan, the branches began to detangle themselves, snaking back from each other. Bark scraped on bark and sent dust spiraling in all directions as the wall unwove itself. A shower of dead leaves and fragmented twigs rained down upon the forest floor. When the crackling and creak of wood had stopped, the space ahead was cleared in a narrow tunnel.

 

 Melkor exhaled as he finished casting and dropped his hands to his sides once more. “Forward, then.” He gestured at the trail, then drew his arm back as a realization seemed to hit him. He frowned slightly, a crease forming between his eyebrows, and he shot Mairon a look that could only be described as concern. “Unless you wish to give me the map so you can keep behind me. If that is your desire, it is quite understandable.” Mairon shook his head, perhaps too quickly, and stepped into the cramped space. “No, it’s alright.” He barely prevented himself from adding a “ _ you’re cute when you worry, though _ .” 

 

  As the pair advanced through the vegetation, it only seemed to get more claustrophobic. The leaves were only inches above Mairon’s head, and Melkor had been forced into an awkward half-crouch. His horns brushed the twisted branches overhead, and a faint grimace flickered across his face. 

 

 “It shouldn't be much further.” Mairon assured him, map crinkling in his hands as he held it beneath a patch of light streaming from a gap in the leaves. He had to crane his neck at an awkward angle to see the symbols and words scrawled onto the brown paper in his cramped handwriting. Behind him, the fae made a soft sound of relief. Mairon peeked over his shoulder and almost smiled at the sight of the imposing, proud fae crouched down with his stoic expression obviously hiding a frown of distaste.

 

 “Not so nice being tall out here in the forests, is it?” He quipped. Melkor sighed. “Good for intimidating those who intrude in my homeland, but not as convenient for traversing said homeland.” He bent his neck down to avoid snaring his horns on a particularly low branch. “The end is right ahead, don’t worry.” Mairon nodded towards the place ahead where the branches were higher on the trees and no longer formed a tight seal between earth and sky. 

 

 As the pair stepped out into the pale light, a groaning noise behind them made Mairon jump, almost hitting Melkor. He whirled around in time to see the branches closing themselves behind them, vines lashing and wood shrieking with the strain. He flinched as he imagined what would have happened had they still been in the passage. Melkor, seeming to notice his expression, laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Do not worry. They would never have closed while we were passing through. I only released the spell holding them back after we were safe.”

 

 “Good to know. Hey, if you were forming that tunnel, why didn’t you make the roof higher? Would’ve been easier on us both.” He shot him a cheeky grin. “Especially you, what with being a tall scary fae and all.” 

 

 Melkor’s fingers ghosted across his temples. “In ordinary circumstances, I would have. The forest does not cooperate with me as easily as it once did. Spells like this must be more compromised, or I would have to expend far more effort.” He stretched with a soft exhale. “Are we close to where you met your wolves?”

 

 He replied with a silent nod and gestured through the trees to the rotten log where he had fallen during his race back to safety. The place where he’d slipped on wet earth was visible as grooves in the clay. Upon closer observation, a faint rusty stain was visible on the graying bark of the log where he had caught himself during his fall. His now-healing palm throbbed, and he clutched it to his chest on instinct. 

 

 The sharp sound of a breath being drawn tugged his attention back to Melkor, who was appraising the scene with wide eyes. His pupils had narrowed, almost catlike, and Mairon couldn’t help but stare at them in fascination. 

 

  “You must have taken a nasty spill.” He meandered forward, boots silent on the packed earth. He paused near the patch of ferns beside the log and closed his eyes, ears perking up. From the look of concentration on his face, it was apparent he was sensing for presences or lingering magic.

 

 “The wolves came out of the brush. They were led by this silvery-gray one with these eyes...he looked  _ human _ , Melkor. When we looked at each other, I could feel it. He was too smart to be a regular wolf, I’ve met them before and they’re not like that.” He knew he was doing a poor job of explaining, but there was no way he could put that feeling into words. Melkor seemed to understand anyway. 

 

 “An unusual intelligence? Was the presence fae?” He inquired, eyes still closed as he paced slowly around the clearing. Mairon frowned as he tried to remember back to that night. It felt as though it had happened years ago, not just the night before last. But that presence, undeniable and overwhelming and protective, lingered sharp in his mind. It was definitely not fae, he decided. Fae felt more unpredictable, and were often tied to something in particular, whether that be an emotion or a place or an element. Fae had an edge to their presences, one he could feel now with Melkor. It was indescribable yet distinct, and he had not felt it from the wolves that night. 

 

 “They weren’t fae. They felt like...something else entirely. And they had this blue aura around them that I could see when they walked me out of the mountains.” His breath caught in his throat as he remembered the pulsing thrum that had encompassed his senses as he approached the fields that formed a cushion between the wilderness and human civilization. “I felt this other presence, too, but only once I was almost home. It was ancient and so powerful I swear I could’ve fainted. I think it was the mountains. It was almost like a heartbeat. I’d never felt that before.” 

 

 Melkor’s eyes opened and he stopped pacing to gaze at Mairon, head tilted. “A heartbeat? Yes, that sounds like the Appalachians. All fae can feel it if we try.” Mairon raised an eyebrow. “Can you feel it now?”

 

 He nodded, not taking his eyes off Mairon. “Yes. It has been more insistent as of late.” He turned from him, cloak shimmering faintly with the motion. “I do not know why you heard it, or what those wolves of yours were if not fae of a sort. You seem to herald oddities.” Mairon chuckled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

 

 “Mairon, I need you to listen to me.” He still stood with his back to the human, but his voice took on a new severity. Before he could respond, Melkor continued. “Please exercise caution. I do not know what is happening, but something has changed and I do not believe it is for the better. You are entangling yourself in an upheaval that neither of us understand, and I do not wish for you to come to harm.”

 

 “I’ll be okay. Trust me. I’ll be careful, Melkor.” Mairon soothed. The fae sighed and bowed his head. “I hope that you shall be, but I cannot help but worry. I, after all, am the one teaching you the ways of magic and encouraging your forays into the Appalachians.” 

 

 “It’s sweet of you to worry, but I can’t stay in that damned town. I’ve never been happy there. I’m only at peace out here, among the mountains, and I can’t change that no matter how much safer I’d be sitting at home and going to college and getting some office job.” Mairon’s voice had become more heated than he’d meant, but the thought of leaving the mountains was equivalent to the thought of being locked in a prison and having the key thrown away. 

 

 Melkor let out a heavy sigh and his shoulders tensed. “Believe me or not, but I understand.” Mairon frowned. “You’re a fae, Melkor. You live out here. You’re part of this world, what would you know about being forced to live in a place that makes you scream on the inside?” At that, Melkor turned on his heel, looming over Mairon. He inhaled sharply at the intensity of that blue gaze, pupils slitted and ears drawn back against his skull. His heart thudded out of control at the sudden intensity of the situation.

  
 “Because I  _ was _ like you, once.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please forgive me for how long this took, college was killing me slowly and i've been busy with holiday plans on top of that


	11. Things Unspoken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melkor speaks of his past. An attempt to understand what happened on the night of the storm goes awry. Curumo is a bastard.

 “Like me? What do you mean?” Mairon blinked up at him, confusion taking the edge off his churning emotions. Melkor’s shoulders slumped, and he shifted his gaze to the leaf-strewn ground. The fire seemed to have left him. “I...explaining would be...difficult.” He spoke hesitantly, each word chosen with care. Mairon stepped closer almost unconsciously, breath catching in his throat as he tilted his head to meet his eyes. “You can tell me anything, you know.” When Melkor turned away, he laid his hand on his arm, just above the jagged edge of the burn mark. “Please.” He whispered.

 

  Melkor stepped nimbly away from him and stared off into the distance, eyes fixed on a point in the blue skies that arched high over the autumnal forest. “It hardly seems to matter anymore. I have never spoken of it, not since I began my life in the hills. The man I used to be might as well be a different person entirely.” He sighed and brought one hand to his brow, coal-black fingers a sharp contrast to his pale skin. He drew his shoulders closer together, cloak rippling with the motion. “If you wish to hear of my past, I will tell you.”

 

“Only if you’re okay with talking about it.” Mairon hurried to reassure him. Melkor looked the most uncomfortable he’d ever seen him, and he was already regretting the pressure he’d put on him to tell him. He mentally kicked himself. They’d been getting along so well, and he could well have ruined it with his insatiable curiosity.

 

 Melkor half turned to him, peering at him from beneath a glossy curtain of black hair. “I believe it is time I let another know of how I came to live in these mountains.” He closed the distance between them and offered him his arm. “Walk with me, and I will explain.”

 

  Heart pounding rapidly for no discernable reason, Mairon reached out and grasped his arm, taking care to avoid touching the blackened parts. The fae’s lips curled into a shy smile as he turned to a nigh-invisible path through the ferns, walking at a slow pace to allow Mairon to remain at his side. Drawing a shaky breath, he began to speak.

 

  “Many years ago, I was human. I lived in a town like yours. I had a family then. My mother and I were alike in many ways. She taught me to embrace the mountains that everyone else feared. I learned my magic first from her. My father knew the old magics as well, but he was more cautious and disliked that she taught me those ways. My brother was grown when I was a child. He was much like yours. He did not understand what our mother and I saw in the wilds, and he feared it.” Melkor broke off to lead Mairon through a break in the trees and out onto a sun-warmed outcropping of rock, gray stone blanketed by lichen and moss as it jutted from the forest around it. Fae and human walked arm in arm up the side of the rough stone to overlook the dip of the valley before them.

 

 “You were like me?” Mairon asked. Melkor nodded. “Yes, although I never needed to teach myself how to survive the wilds. I never fit in with my people, but it did not matter. My mother understood me, and I always had the Appalachians awaiting me. I was happy.”

 

 “Something happened that forced you to leave?” Mairon’s brow furrowed. Melkor nodded once. “I was very young. I was foolish and impulsive at the time. I had not yet mastered my magic or learned caution, and I made a fatal error.” He squeezed his eyes shut, and Mairon hurried to lay his free hand on his shoulder soothingly. “If you don’t want to say--”

 

  Melkor shook his head. “It has weighed on me for too long. If anyone has proven themself worthy of this knowledge, it is you.” For all the courage in his voice, Mairon noticed the slight tremor of his hands and the tension in his face. He drew breath to speak, but Melkor cut him off. “My mother was taken from this world because of my mistakes. My father was furious. He cast me out. It was years ago, but I can remember his voice as he told me to never return as clearly as though it happened yesterday.”

 

  “God, that’s horrible.” Mairon squeezed his arm gently, unsure of what to say. The tall, powerful fae looked so vulnerable in that moment and he had no clue as to how he should respond. “I’m so sorry, Melkor.” The apology felt weak, but judging by the tiny smile it got him, it had been sufficient. “I went first to what is today my home. Back then it was a fairly mundane cabin for my family whenever we visited the wilds. Even with that house, I would never have survived as a lone human child in the Appalachians, no matter what training I had received prior. The fae of the Oaken Court took pity on me. They allowed me to stay with them, and as I grew older, they allowed me to become one of them.”

 

  “That’s possible?” Mairon’s eyes widened and he leaned closer unconsciously, head tilted to one side. Melkor nodded. “Yes, if one has the good favor of the fae and an attunement to the nuances of the wilds. I had both of those things, and I chose to accept their offer. As humanity abandoned me, I abandoned humanity. I became what I am today.”

 

 “I’m sorry.” Mairon said on instinct. Melkor shrugged, broad shoulders rising and falling beneath his cloak. “Do not be. It is hardly your fault, and I believe I am better off now than I was then. Here, no one forces me to live as a man I am not. I rule my own fate.” Mairon nodded. “I understand. When I’m out here, I feel like that too.”

 

  “We are very alike, you and I.” Melkor observed. “I am glad for that, and I...believe that speaking with you of my past lifted some of its weight from my shoulders. Thank you.” Mairon smiled at him. “It’s not a problem. You can talk to me anytime you need to, you know?”

 

  Melkor looked almost surprised, the color rising in his cheeks. “I have not been close to another in far too long. You are a welcome change to that routine.” He stepped away from him, almost reluctantly withdrawing his arm from Mairon. “But now we should continue our work. I intend to find whatever followed you before the wolves came. I cannot allow harm to come to y-- _ anyone _ .” He coughed awkwardly as he clambered off the rock. Mairon hopped down after him, resisting the urge to ask him what word he had bitten back.

  
  


~~~

  
  


 As the day wore on, the pair retraced the path Mairon had taken the night of the storm. Even with magical aid it was difficult to detect the tracks of both Mairon and his mysterious pursuer, as both seemed to have held up poorly against the weather. Despite the slow going and general frustration, Mairon was happy. The sun shone bright in the cloudless sky above them, and the breeze was crisp, carrying with it the scent of autumn. The leaves were changing to brilliant shades of golden and red and orange, interspersed with the dark needles of the evergreens. The swells of the mountains and dips of valleys were blanketed in all the colors of a flame, and navigating the vibrant display at his side was Melkor. There was no one else in the world Mairon would rather share the day with.

 

 The fae walking alongside him huffed in frustration. “I cannot maintain my spell. There is interference of some sort.” His eyes were narrowed in concentration, ears pinned against his head and almost disappearing into his thick hair. “It will be damned near impossible to keep the trail if I cannot use magic. Whatever followed you is stealthy and knows these mountains, and the rain erased many of the signs left behind from the earth.” 

 

 “Can I try?” Mairon asked, stepping up beside him. Melkor impatiently brushed strands of inky-black hair out of his face and reached into one of the pouches hanging from his belt, fumbling about for some spell component or focus. “Go ahead.”

 

  Closing his eyes and holding his hands out palms-up, Mairon stepped forward towards a thicket of knotted vines. He let the familiar energy swell within him and released it, sending tendrils of his magic snaking out to locate any tracks or signs left by the creature. It had hardly formed into a proper spell before it hit a wall. No matter how hard Mairon pressed the energy against the barricade, it refused to give. Frowning, he slid his magic along the barrier, seeking out any crack or weak spot but finding none. It was like being trapped under a glass jar.

 

  He sighed and opened his eyes, letting the tingling in his fingertips dissipate. Melkor was looking at him with a curiously intent expression. There was something in his eyes that vanished before Mairon could place it. The fae rapidly straightened up and continued measuring out small rune-inscribed stones in his palm. 

 

  Choosing not to poke fun at Melkor for staring like a deer in the headlights, Mairon massaged his temples and wracked his brain for another strategy. A memory came to him--staring down a hulking dark shape as ice crystals lashed his face and snow turned his surroundings to blank white. In the end, it had been his voice that had turned it aside. Perhaps that could work now. 

 

  Mairon took a breath and sang a simple worldless tune, one from a traditional song his father favored. He closed his eyes, ignoring the puzzled look he was sure Melkor was giving him, and let the sound of the wind in the pines guide his tune. As he let the spell build again, his hands tingling, he let his voice meld into the rush of the breeze. He lifted his face to the afternoon sun, letting it dapple on his face as he worked his voice into the natural rhythm of the mountains.

 

  He let the spell go slower this time, sending out the tendrils of energy imploringly rather than demandingly. There was still resistance, but this time he was able to pass it. It was rather like reaching through a thick gel. He dared not open his eyes to see the results as he cast out further into the forest around them, feeling rather foolish as he stood there  _ singing _ of all things in front of a fae who was more skilled with magic than he could ever claim to be.

 

  A soft gasp from Melkor sparked his curiosity, which overrode his embarrassment almost instantly. He stopped casting, movements tentative as he gestured with his hands to guide the energy to dissipate. When he opened his eyes, at first nothing seemed different. He raised one eyebrow and shot Melkor an inquisitive look. The fae pointed at the thicket before him with one slender finger.

 

 When Mairon looked in the direction indicated, he made out a glimmer of cold silver light against the trunk of a slender sapling. Another was visible a little further on, this time as a small puddle on the ground. And beyond that, another trace of silver on a broken branch. 

 

 “I do not know what you did with your voice, but it seems to have given us our trail.” Melkor tucked the runestones back into his pouch as he spoke, fastening the clasp. He frowned. “It’s called singing.”

 

  The fae laughed, musical and deep, and Mairon felt heat swell in his chest--this time, definitely not from magic. “Oh, Mairon, I knew that. It is merely that your song seems to be tied to your magical talent. You are stronger when you use your voice rather than casting in silence.”

 

 Mairon shrugged. “I don’t know why I can do that. I just remembered something that happened when I was a kid.” Melkor cocked his head and his ears perked up with interest. “Do elaborate.” 

 

 He scratched the back of his head, suddenly self-conscious. “It’s kind of stupid, but years ago there was this blizzard that rolled in while I was at school. My friends and I tried to head home but we got separated from our teacher.” He lowered his voice, some cautious part of him certain that speaking of the beast could summon it (a stance not entirely without reason). “There was something out there. It was large and probably unfriendly. I panicked and couldn’t figure out what to do, so I ordered it to go away. It obeyed.”

 

  Melkor cocked his head, looking almost birdlike. “That is...odd.” Mairon chuckled. “You’re telling me. I still can’t believe that worked. But today I remembered it and I thought if my voice had power then, maybe it could now.”

 

 “It seems you were correct.” He stepped towards the sapling and knelt to examine the silver trace where Mairon’s magic showed the creature’s path. “Let us go, while your spell remains fresh.”

 

  The path took them winding up the hillsides and past sheer rock faces, beneath tenacious bushes clinging to the jagged gray surface. Streaks of quartz glimmered like new-fallen snow in the sunlight. As they brushed past the trailing gray branches hanging from cracks in the rock, clouds of insects rose with a whir of dozens of tiny wings. When Mairon squinted at the spindly white forms, a sense of wrongness tugged at his gut. He glanced at Melkor, seeing the fae’s ears flattened. Melkor returned his gaze, and something in his eyes told Mairon that he understood. He focused on the path ahead of him, ignoring the minute tugging at the hem of his jacket and keeping his attention resolutely away from the faint whisper that seemed to rise and fall with the wingbeats.

 

  As they climbed the path into an area heavily populated by vibrant evergreens, the trail began to peter out. Mairon kept humming to give the silver markings enough glow to be visible, despite the drain it put on his energy. Melkor spoke from behind him, deep voice questioning. “I have heard your tune before, but you do not finish it. Why is that?”

 

 “Oh, that.” Mairon ran a hand through his hair. “It’s probably nonsense, but my mother used to tell me to never offer anything to the mountains, and if I must, then I should never give everything I have. I kind of took it to heart. When I offer food to the animals, I never give them all I brought. When I leave out carvings or herbs in exchange for safety, I always have extras that I keep. I thought that might apply here too.”

 

  “Your mother is correct.” Melkor rumbled. “You must never appear as though your usefulness has run out. You must leave the mountains wanting, and you can never give your all.” He paused, eyes glinting. “If you are left with nothing to contribute, you are as a dried-up stream. You are...unnecessary.” 

 

  Mairon had known that to be true for years, but to outright hear it put into words was chilling. But as they rounded a corner, all thought of his mother’s warnings fled his mind.

 

  The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as a familiar tumbledown fence came into view. 

 

 Beyond the broken rails, rusty spurs of barbed wire, and dense weeds, the farm sat almost innocently within its clearing. The last time he had tracked a denizen of the wilds here, it had been far friendlier. Without his mind focused on what he would later learn was Tevildo’s presence, the farm felt downright threatening. The spell faltered as a surge of anxiety made Mairon’s throat tighten and cold sweat bead on his palms. 

 

  Melkor stumbled into him, nearly sending them both sprawling. With a jolt, Mairon realized he had been so intent on the sense of danger he’d stopped moving without even noticing. “Sorry.” He muttered absently, eyes still fixed on the ruined buildings and sprawling fields slowly being reclaimed by the forest. The red clay of the bare earth visible amongst rusted metal and shattered wood and sagging buildings almost resembled spatters of blood from some enormous creature. It was so  _ red _ . His pulse roared in his ears, and it felt as though he was gazing at the farm through a veil of cobwebs. Looking at the once-serene setting made his head spin, but his gaze was held as if by the jagged coils of barbed wire laying among rotting fenceposts.

 

  “The trail leads here, but we should turn aside.” Melkor’s voice was like a lighthouse in a storm, clearing the fog from Mairon’s head. He managed to tear away and turn back to his companion. “Y-yeah.” He conceded, voice faint. Melkor’s brow wrinkled with concern. “It is clear that this place is giving you difficulty. We can return another time, or I shall track the creature myself. I will not subject you to this.” He took Mairon by the shoulder and led him away, through the alley of pines. “I didn’t know you cared.” Mairon chuckled weakly. 

 

  Melkor frowned. “Of course I care. I...care very much for you.” He seemed to notice how shaky Mairon’s legs had become, and he shifted closer to him. “Lean on me. I will return you to your home now. It will be dark shortly, and I will not risk that place at night.”

 

 In normal circumstances Mairon would have protested being escorted through the forest he practically lived in as though he were a child, but he felt too faint to turn down the help. Besides, he thought idly as they passed a dark bramble thicket alive with yellow eyes, resting against Melkor felt nice. His cloak was soft and he was strong and steady. He smelled of pine, and his strides were confident as he navigated the ever-changing trails of the Appalachians.

 

 When they reached the field outside town, Mairon stepped away from him with an unexpected reluctance. “I can make it from here. Besides, can’t have the big scary fae come too close to all the helpless humans.” Melkor merely raised an eyebrow at his sarcasm. “Quite. I shall see you on the morrow. Meet me at my cabin. I wish to practice more wards with you before we follow up on what we learned today.”

 

  “Sounds good. Bye, Melkor.” Mairon waved to him as he turned to walk back to the treeline. He paused just before reaching it, feathered cloak gleaming iridescent green and rippling with his movement. The violets and magentas of the darkening sky formed a glorious display when coupled with the jagged peaks and the sway of the treeline as the wind tossed through it. Melkor stood beneath the colors of the sunset, framed against the dark forest by the last light of day. He looked like something out of the fairy tales Yavanna had read from an old leather-bound book when Curumo and Mairon were young. For a moment they simply stood and regarded each other, two men at the divide between their worlds. Then Melkor waved to Mairon with one graceful motion of his hand and vanished into the trees. In a heartbeat it was as though he had never stood there at all.

 

 Mairon shook his head to clear whatever had come over him and started the walk back into town.

 

  The trek back to his house was uneventful. He moved fast despite his protesting muscles, closing the distance between himself and the harsh glow of the lighted windows with loping strides. As he darted across the street, he noticed Curumo perched on the hood of his car. 

 

 “Hey.” He raised a hand in greeting as he reached the gravel of their driveway. His brother whirled around and nearly slipped from his seat, dropping his phone in the process. He scowled as he righted himself and hopped down to retrieve it. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

 

  “I was running.” Mairon muttered. He slowed to a walk as Curumo brushed his phone off with care and sat back down on the hood, arms stretched out behind him for support. He gestured at the device balanced on one denim-clad leg. “Why’d you come outside to text?” 

 

 “I had to call Tilion. We’re planning something for Uinen’s birthday.” He sighed softly to himself, face turning slightly pink as he mentioned Uinen. Mairon leaned against his car. Curumo was visible as a silhouette against the light from indoors, ginger hair unruly around his pale face and contrasting with the gray hoodie that hung from his thin frame.

 

 “Do you still have a thing about Uinen?” Mairon asked, keeping his face carefully neutral. Curumo scowled, rather predictably. “Oh, shut up.” 

 

 “Come on, Curumo, it’s obvious you like her. Make a move already, won’t you?” Curumo blanched, visible despite the low light levels, and glanced around wildly, as though Uinen was lurking in the bushes or behind a trash can to eavesdrop on their conversation. “Not so loud!” He hissed.

 

  Mairon chuckled. He scoffed. “You wouldn’t understand. It’s not like you’ve ever liked a girl.” The derision in his voice made Mairon’s heart turn leaden. “That’s not your concern.” Curumo leaned toward him. “On the other hand, I think it  _ is _ my concern. Do you know how that makes us look?”

 

  “I think people are too focused on me spending half my time in the mountains to be concerned about who I do or don’t like.” Mairon tried to keep his voice level to counter the heated twist of hurt and anger inside him, but he knew he was failing. Curumo drummed his fingers against the car, as casual as if he were asking Mairon what he wanted for dinner. “It’s one more thing that makes you an outlier. It’s  _ strange _ , Mai. People single out everything about you. I’ve heard them talk.”

 

  “You hang out with Eonwë! I was dating him, in case you forgot!” He burst out, drawing his jacket closer to himself. Curumo sighed. “He says it was a phase. He acts normal now. You? You don’t. Can’t you see how that makes our family look?”

 

 “This conversation is over.” Mairon snapped, storming up the path towards the house. As the steps creaked beneath his boots, he heard Curumo let out a heavy sigh. The sudden burn of tears at the corners of his eyes made him blink. He scowled and took a moment to compose himself, leaning against the doorframe and staring into the night. The dark peaks rising up into the starry expanse of the mountain sky brought him focus and cleared his head. He felt less tearful after only a few moments letting himself get lost in the cold lights above. He exhaled slowly and opened the door, letting himself into the brightly-lit hallway. 

 

  He kicked off his boots and removed his coat, hanging it on one of the hooks jutting from the wall. As he approached the stairs with quiet steps, his father stepped out of the kitchen and planted himself squarely front of him. His muscular arms were folded across his chest, and his usually-kind eyes were dark as he stared down at Mairon. Yavanna joined him, smaller and built delicately but no less intimidating as she gave him that certain look that signified he was in trouble.

 

 “Mairon,” Aulë said, voice rumbling and stern. “We need to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please forgive me for the wait

**Author's Note:**

> discarded title: forest gays


End file.
